


Missing Mariachi

by DipseySparkleFlower



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014), Coco (2017)
Genre: F/F, F/M, I DO NOT OWN COCO, M/M, Not sure how this will go, just have been stewing on it for a while:), kidnap, trigger warning, trigger warning kidnap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:14:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27268564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DipseySparkleFlower/pseuds/DipseySparkleFlower
Summary: It is the year 2155. In the Tierra de los Muertos, Héctor and family are living it up. So to speak. Only, there is one hiccup to their happiness. One evening in early February 2027, Miguel Rivera went missing. His body never appeared and his soul never returned to the deceased Riveras. So where did he go?
Relationships: Héctor Rivera/Imelda Rivera
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	1. Maybe We'll Get Lucky and We'll Both Live Again

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Re-animated (No Zombies!) - a returned au.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16864066) by [emletish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emletish/pseuds/emletish). 



> Chapter title is from the song "Ocean Breathes Salty." It's about missing someone.
> 
> I want to start out by adding some HCs and fandom notes:
> 
> 1\. I like to stick to canon as best I can. So I brought Miguel forward in time so he could meet Hiro and the gang. These are my fave movies.  
> 2\. Miguel and Héctor had been exchanging notes via the alebrijes up until the moment Miguel went missing.  
> 3\. Hiro and Karmi have both graduated, and are working in jobs pertaining to their specific degrees. Hiro still helps out sometimes in the Lucky Cat Café.  
> 4\. I was largely inspired for this fic by Emletish 's work, called "Re-animated (No Zombies!). In it Héctor gets brought back to life as a re-animated person and gets to hang out with Miguel and co. I really liked the idea of one of the main characters being taken out of their own time and being deposited in the future. Check it out, it is really good :D

SEPTEMBER 2155

Héctor Rivera was an old soul. Truly, truly old. Most people his age were not around anymore. Families tended to forget their oldest members after about a hundred years or so. But here he was, at over two hundred and fifty years old, still kicking. His bones were as bright as they had ever been. So he was remembered really well, either by a lot of people, or really well by at least one person in particular.

The first hundred years of his afterlife were not like this; he had been yellowing with every passing year, and the worst years had come after Imelda and his friends in Santa Cecilia died. No one who had known Héctor in life kept his memory going, or told his stories to their little ones. So he began to be forgotten

It was out of sheer stubbornness on the living Rivera end that he was even remembered at all; young Coco grew into an old great-grandmother and still held onto her father's memory. Well into her nineties, she refused to forget him. And then when Miguel had ventured into the Land of the Dead, he had brought Coco's memory of Héctor back to life. The transition from being only a little remembered to being remembered really well had been a very peculiar but very welcome one.

And after Miguel and the other Riveras made it their job to get the Ernesto thing straight, it seemed like the Riveras would never be forgotten. But then something strange happened.

Ten years after Miguel visited the Tierra de los Muertos and saved Héctor's life, he went missing. No one ever saw him again.

Of course, people speculated. They thought he had been murdered. They thought he had been abducted and kept prisoner. They thought any number of terrible, awful things had happened to Miguel, but no explanation arrived. No body appeared in the Tierra de los Vivos, and no soul appeared in the Tierra de los Muertos.

Eventually, after over seventy years of life, Socorro Rivera arrived. The first thing she had asked was, "Is Miguel here?" It had broken Imelda's heart, sending her into a silence that lasted for days. Luisa and Enrique had asked the same thing the momennt they had died, wondering if their child was dead. But no, Miguel never appeared anywhere.

After Socorro died, many of the deceased Riveras decided that it had been long enough; Socorro led a search party for her brother, despite being very new to the Tierra de los Muertos. Papá Julio and Mamá Coco led her through Shantytown, the Upper Districts, the Mayan Ruins, and various parts of the city. They looked for anyone matching Miguel's descriiption.

Of course, they had tried the Department of Family Reunionns first; but those 'devil-box people' had no information on one Miguel Rivera. They had explained, that like all the other Riveras, when someone died they appeared in the same place as everyone else did: a little room in the department, on their own beds, and then were instructed to fill informs and wait until their family members could come pick them up.

Héctor had wondered about Miguel's special circumstances; the people who appeared in the departnent upon death had never been to the Tierra de los Muertos before. Miguel on the other hand had been high and low inn many nooks and crannies alll over the Tierra de los Muertos.

Héctor had checked all of them.

He checked the buildings he and Miguel had been inside, including Ceci's studio. He checked the Ernesto mansion. He checked the little pathway where Imelda had sung to Miguel for the first time. He checked every building in Shantytown. He checked everywhere, frequently. Even decades after, he found himself being pulled into familiar locations and vaguely glancing around looking for the chamaco he had not seen in over one hundred years.

He just wanted to tell Miguel thank you.

There was no way Miguel was alive any longer. He would have had to be--Héctor counted, the date of the newspaper article left on the ofrenda one devastating Día de los Muertos fresh in his mind--over one hundred and fifty years old. So there was no way he was still alive.

And yet...

Part of him had always suspected that Miguel was still around, somehow. Maybe his physical body had passed on, but his memory had not. Héctor rationalized this because of all the deceased Riveras, the ones who had been around during Miguel's lifetime had shone the brightest. Anyone born after Miguel had gone missing was starting to fade. Héctor wasn't much concerned for them at first; the Rivera family was almost religiously meticulous about newer generations knowing hundreds of names of ancestors. It must have been tedious.

But yet, people were fading. Héctor's great-great-great grandchildren were starting to look like he had, back in the day. They were carried on by a thread of a memory, no living around to keep them afloat. But they would always have a home with the Riveras, becasue they were always Riveras.

No one had faded from their family, yet, thank the Lord. But Héctor dreaded that day when the first would fade away. He suspected it would be Socorro's son Jaime who would go first; he had been looking dreadful for decades. Yet his mother 's skeleton remained white as ever. But he would not voice those concerns out loud.

Of course, the other Riveras had theories too; Victoria had admitted to him a few years after Socorro's children had arrived that maybe Miguel was no longer 'allowed' to be part of their world. Like he had misbehaved in his life and was forbidden from coming back to the Tierra de los Muertos.

"So where would he go?" Héctor had asked.

Victoria swirled her tequila in its glass, a frown etching her features. She really did look like him, even in death. Poor thing. "I don't know. Somewhere else."

That conversation hung in Héctor's mind as he sat in the Department. They had called the Rivera household earlier that day and left a message, saying that it was urgent. Héctor and Imelda had dropped everything and come straight to the front desk, just to be told to sit down and wait for their names to be called. This had made Imelda beyond angry.

"All this new technology and they can't tell us things over email?" She glowered.

It almost made Héctor want to laugh; Imelda could not figure out email to save her life. They had only added this method of communication sometime in the mid-2060s, after the communication method had become obsolete in the living world. Héctor could navigate it okay, but not very well. He still needed Gloria's help from time to time. Even Gloria had debated with him about how much more convenient it was to just call someone they needed to have transactions with. And she was not alone; many of the newer Riveras had been happy to be without their cell phones, even the younger generations who had been 'technology savages' according to Victoria.

"I'm sure they will tell us soon, amor," he had countered, putting a hand on her lap.

She sighed and relaxed a tad; even after all these years he tethered her back down from her anger. She gently cupped his hand in hers and waited (somewhat) more patiently. Almost and hour later, a woman emerged from a door, calling, "Rivera?" into the lobby.

Héctor leapt to his feet and helped Imelda do the same. She rolled her eyes and smiled at how he dorkily bowed, hand outstretched, to help his wife of over one hundred years get to her feet. She knew he was trying to distract her from her nerves, but she gratefully accepted his offer to help her up. They approached the woman with the clipboard.

"Are you Héctor and Imelda Rivera?" She asked, pushing her glasses up onto the ridge of where her nose used to be. She looked young; bouncy curls with not a hint of grey, no lines or fractures or bumps on her face, bright blue marks shining on her skull. She had died young, and within the past few years. Hectoor sympathized with her, but she didn't seem to be concerned with that now. "I am Lena Alvarez. I work here in the Department under special circumstances. I have some news for you."

Imelda and Héctor looked at each other, then back at her. "What is the news?" Imelda asked decisively; she hated waiting. She wanted to be on top of whatever was happening.

The womman opened the door. "Step into my office and I will disclose this information to you."

They reluctantly followed. Héctor felt strangley like he was being led into a trap. the last time they had been summoned like this to the Department, it had been to tell them that one of their many great-great-great grandchildren had been killed in an accident, quite suddenly. The family had long since adjusted to that circumstance, but that was the only incident in which they had been this...secretive with divulging information.

Héctor an Imelda were led down a hall and then to a door. The woman with the clipboard used a key hooked to her belt and opened the door. It was a small office with one bookcase filled with books, a desk, and three chairs. One comfortable office chair sat behind the desk, and two almost-comfortable ones sat in front of the desk.

"I recommend you sit for this, Señor y Señora Rivera," she recommended, brows furrowing. It was the first emotion she had shown, and they could tell she was only showing 'empathy' as a formality.

Imelda remained standing, but stepped into the office cautiously. "Did someone die?" She asked warily.

Señora Alvarez breathed out through her teeth slowly. "Not exactly." She walked around the Riveras, and sat down at the desk. She guestured again to the two waiting seats, which Héctor and Imelda had yet to take. "I do seriously recommend you sit down," she almost commanded.

Finally Imelda sat, realizing the gravity of the situation. Héctor sat down after she did, minding tradition despite how off they felt about the situation.

Señora Alvarez leaned back in her chair microscopically; she appeared more commforatble relaying information now that she and the Riveras were on the same ground. "Do you recall hearing about an incident in San Francisco around 2027, involving an explosion that caused a whole building to collapse?"

Héctor felt his cchest tighten, realizing that that was the year Miguel had gone missing. He felt Imelda stiffen beside him without even seeing her.

"No," Imelda said, followed by Héctor's, "Not really."

The woman nodded, her mouth a hard line. "That building collapsed, and was then abandoned, and then became a landmark. Only recently, a group of excavators has bothered to decide to comb through the wreckage." She reached in front of her to open one of her drawers. She sifted through it for a file, finally finding what she was looking for. She held a manila envelope in her hands, looking at it almost as if she was deciding whether or not to show it to the Riveras.

"In one of the lower levels, about three stories below ground, they found a basement that had remained in tact despite an entire thirty-story building collapsing on top off it." She still held the envelope aloft, and Héctor felt the need to know what was in it tearing at the very fabric of hiss being. "They found a body," she continued, looking at each of them.

"Was it Miguel?" Imelda asked, voicing Héctor's thoughts before he could. "Is that why he hasn't ccome home? Is his soul trapped in los Estados Unidos?"

Señora Alvarez watched them carefully. "The answer to your first question is yes. Yes, we found Miguel Rivera."

Héctor stared forward, his gaze losing focus. He was glad that Lena had stopped talking to let them absorb the news because he would not have been able to comprehend anything else. Imelda reached out blindly for him, and he caught her hand; she seemed to be as affected by the news as he was.

They missed their boy.

"Wh--when did they find him?" Imelda asked, her voice sounding choked, like she was about to cry.

Lena folded her hands on her desk. "Around six months ago."

Imelda's face contorted. "Why did no one think to contact us?" She demanded, a trace of her fiery personality shining though her grief. "And if you knew where he was, why has no one tried to bring him home to us?"

Héctor didn't want to gang up on Señora Alvarez, but he had questions of his own. "How long was he trapped in the building? Why didn't he reach out to us? And what was he doing in San Francisco?"

But Lena absorbed their grief and anger in stride; she appeared to be at ease in this situation, despite its newness to the Riveras.

"We have the ability to traverse the world on Día de los Muertos, as long as there is a marigold path made for us," Señora Alvarez said, opening thefile on herr desk. "There are so many people who celebrate Dia de los Muertos, even in the Estados Unidos. And his photo was undoubtedly on your ofrenda. If Miguel Rivera had chosen to, he could have come home."

Imelda caught onto particular words as much as Héctor did. "He chose not to returnn?" She asked, the skepticism in her voice not quite disguising the hurt.

Lena raised her brow. "No. It was not because he did not want to. It was because he was unable to."

Héctor asked, "Was it because of the curse? Is he bound to some--" he waved his hand around as he tried to think of a word "--in-between place? Between the worlds? Like the marigold bridge?"

"Again, no," Lena admitted.

Imelda rose to her feet. "Then what is keeping him from returning to us?" Imelda demanded, her voice getting louder and louder. Héctor reached out to put a hand on her shoulder but she shrugged it off.

Lena Alvarez absorbed Imelda's anger very well. She calmly watched Imelda stand, not batting an eye. Whoever had assigned her to this case knew she was either very used to dealing with lashing out and anger or had been warned of the Rivera antics in crisis. And Héctor was glad, because the next thing she said shattered his whole perception of everything in this or any world.

"The reason why Miguel Rivera has not returned home to you is because he is still alive."


	2. A Hundred Héctors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miguel is disoriented.
> 
> Enrique and Rosa go on a long road trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work will be happening a little out of order. Blame it ln the fact that I am watching Lost again, but I love when stories are sewn together small bits at a time, out of order.

APRIL 5, 2155  
Miguel felt...more lucid than he had in a long time. It had been so long that he felt everything blur together in his mind. He could have been asleep for minutes, or hours, or days, or months, he wasn't sure. It all blurred together and all he could see were indistinct colors and shapes. He thought he recognized a voice or two here and there, but they were never around long enough for him to figure out who it was.

Then, everything felt strange. All of a sudden, the air felt different. As in, it was gone. He found himself struggling for breath, and out of nowhere a bright light shone all around him.

Miguel opened his eyes for the first time in over one hundred and thirty years.

The light overhead was blinding. He wanted to raise a hand to block it, but his arms just felt so stiff. His eyes could not focus for the life of him.

Someone was saying something, but it sounded far off. Dasedly Miguel tried to look at whomever was speaking, but he ouldn't turn his head all the way in any direction. He was stiff as all getout. And it took forever for his eyes to focus.

Someone was speaking, a bit louder this time. He was finally able to listen to the words, but they didn't sound right. He could make them out, sort of, but they sounded weird.

Slowly, so slowly, he felt his eyes land on the person standing beside him. Why was everything so slow? He felt like he was swimming in honey or something. His eyes slowly adjusted to the bright light and focused on the figure before him. She looked like a doctor, from what he could tell. She wore a lab coat and held a clipboard, which she jotted things onto. She had dark skin and dark hair, and she looked vaguely Middle Easten.

"Miguel," she said his name, it sounded like his name but different, like maybe it didn't used to be his name, or maybe she was saying it wrong, or maybe he hadn't heard his name in a long time. And then she said something else, a bunch of words he had trouble understanding. She turned her head to the side, and her voice went up at the end. Like she was asking a question. Her eyebrows knit together in concern.

He opened his dry mouth to speak, and what came out he didn't recognize as speech at all. It was closer to a groan. His throat burned with the effort.

The doctor smiled at him, and said something else, and laughed nevously at her own joke. He didn't get it. What was so funny? He felt so slow. Why wasn't he undestanding ANYTHING?

Another voice commented, and Miguel ralized the one doctor was not alone. Two other doctors appeared to be there. A shorter Asian man and a very tall blonde woman were there, too. The tall woman was probably the one who had spoken. And the shorter man shrugged his shoulders, hands in his pockets nonchalantly.

It slowly dawned on Miguel that something was wrong. He had gotten himself into trouble and gotten himself hurt, and then he was asleep for a while, and now these doctors were checking on Him. He just wished he could find his voice, that his body didn't feel so heavy, that he could just understand everyone. 

Had he been in an accident? He tried to think through his muddy memory, but there was only a lot of dark static. Even his memory from before the static was hard to reach at the moment. He could remember his mamá's face, and the way his novia liked to bop his nose, or even his trip to the Tierra de los Muertos as a child, but they were hard to reach into.

The tall blonde woman was speaking again, and this time he caught some of her words. "--despierto. ¿Cómo estás, Miguel?"

He stared at the tall blonde woman with wide eyes. He was shocked that he was understanding something other than his own name. He opened his mouth to respond to her, finding his voice in the back of his throat, where it felt the most raw.

"Tengo...sed," he responded finally, his mouth and body betraying him. His voice sounded so rough, like he hadn't spoken in a long long time. He was so thirsty.

The blonde woman seemed to relax slightly. She smiled at the other two doctors, saying something to them that Miguel could not understamd. Miguel was afraid that he was slipping again, but the tall blonde woman spoke to him once more. "Miguel, these are the doctors who rescued you. This is Hiro Hamada," she said, guesturing to the short Japanese man, "And this is Karmi Montoya," she said, pointing to a Middle Eastern woman. "They were the ones who rescued you."

"Rescued me?" Miguel responded back in Spanish, slowly. He felt like he was tripping over his words. Was there an accident? Was he okay?

The tall blonde woman nodded. "Sí. They rescued you. You went missing for a little bit. We are all going to work together to get you better, okay?"

Missing? "Am I...sick?" Miguel asked. He didn't feel sick. But he didn't feel right, either. Something was definitely wrong with him. Besides the slowness and the stiffness and how he couldn't understand much of what anyone was saying. He just didn't know what.

The tall woman bobbed her head from the left and right. "Sort of. Your motor functions have suffered since you fell asleep, but with the right excercise routine, we can probably get you up to working shape." She smiled at him.

"Okay," Miguel said, looking around the room sluggishly. He felt hiimself slipping back into unconsciousness. It was like a blanket being draped over him, soft and warm, swirling with soft colors. Darnkess tinged at the edges of his vision. Right before sleep consumed him, however, he felt a memory tug at the corner of his mind. His father calling out to him, something in his voice was hurt and confused, and he didn't know why.

He felt dumb for not asking before, but his mouth opened and he thought the word 'familia' came out. He wasn't sure; the next moment he was asleep, pulleed under by a familiar force, one he had been living under for so long.  
\----------------------------  
October 8, 2028  
Rosa stood outside of the library, staring out into the field. She had spent so long behind a desk today that words and numbers were beginning to blur in her brain. A headache wedged itself behind her eyes, making it harder ot concentrate. She spent a lot of afternoons like this, escaping after a long day of researching to just pinch the space between her eyes as her headache gnawed at her brain.

She and her Tío Enrique had spent so much of a year searching different towns' cemetaries, church archives,

and unmarked graves. With each town they passed through, Enrique asked about if people had seen Miguel. He had found a picture of Miguel with some scruff and had been showing it to everyone within a mile radius while Rosa sorted through library abd church archives in the area.

Rosa put her head in her hands as she thought of all the unmarked graves at the edge of town. Every day they dug up more of them, or asked permission to dig up more of them, searching for a Rivera to being home. It drove her crazy thinkin her family could be in the ground somewhere, so far from home.

Rosa resignedly turned back around and went inside the church library. She rubbed her eyes as she searched through archives that Our Lady of Merciful Sorrows had kept about the unkarked graves at the edge of town.

They had had to search a lot of different places to get here. They had rerouted the train that had originally gone through Mexico City some time in the sixties, so Rosa and Tío Enrique had been following the ghost of a train track for several months now. Only, their trail was starting to go cold. It had been cold for a long time, but sheer Rivera stubbornness kept it alive in their hearts. Rosa would continue to search for Papá Héctor while Tío Enrique searched for Miguel.

They had started to call ahead to different cities within a day's journey from the old train route. A lot of the churches had gone through their unmarked gravesites already and placed the bodies into caskets. Many even had photos of the events, dating as far back as the early 1900s. The town they were in had exactly three unmarked graves in the church cemetery. It was the fifth church they would check this week.

Rosa tried not to think of all the records they were missing, either from tiredness, or because of fire, or relocation, or whatever odds the universe tended to throw their way.

Rosa sifted through the files tiredly. She lifted the sheets of papers containing the dates she had been left by Papá Hector via Dante. He thought he had been killed around the 18th of December. It looked like none of the bodies that were buried at the edge of town were buried even remotely close to December. Her heart sank as she hit another dead end.

The loud ringtone interrupted Rosa's thoughts as her phone rang in her pocket. Without looking, Rosa swiped her thumb across the screen and placed it against her ear. "Hi, Tío Enrique," she said.

There was a pause. "Rosa, it's Private Investigator Silva. I have some news."

Rosa felt her gut drop; her heart felt tight at his sober voice. "What is it?" she heard herself asking. She tried to rationalize why this man was calling her. Miguel had hired him to find Papá Héctor about a year ago, but she had figured that after Miguel went missing he would have abandoned the job. And she didn't blame him; he had a family to feed, and a missing man's promises would not pay the bills.

He sighed. "I got a call from the police department in Mexico City. I am headed there now. They said they found about five bodies in a plot off to the west of the city. Forensics teams are there now, taking the remains." His tone got low. "They said some of the remains match some depictions of recent missing persons. I just wanted to let you know, so you could prepare if you needed to."

The words rang in her head like a gong. Recent missing persons. Not people from a hundred years ago, like he had been hired to find. Recent, as in deceased only a short time ago, so short a time ago that they would be recognizeable enough to compare with missing persons reports.

Rosa put her hand over her face. Her voice was choked when she responded. "Okay. Thank you for telling me."

"They might need you to come identify remians. One of the bodies is extremely fresh."

Rosa felt herself sitting back against the chair roughly. Her breath left her in a woosh. Identify the remains? What if it was actually Miguel? Seeing her cousin like that...she didn't know if she could. She had already seen at least fifteen skeletons in their crypts, graves, shrines, and tombs. She wasn't sure she could handle seeing one with flesh on it.

"Okay. Should we head to Mexico City?

He sighed. "I think so, Rosa. I'm sorry, nena." 

She hung up, but hesitated before dialing her uncle's phone. What would she even say? She had contacted P.I. Silva when Miguel had vanished, absolutely convinced that he was working with her cousin to try to find Papá Héctor's remains. It had taken quite a bit of convincing on Silva's part to get Rosa to believe that Silva wasn't secretly hiding Miguel somewhere. Now that he had contacted her once again, more than a year later, she was terrified that she would find Miguel. Tío Enrique would be devastated. Sure, Tío Enrique and Miguel were convinced there was life after this one. But Rosa wasn't so sure her cousin hadn't just been trying to get out of trouble by spinning some elaborate story. She couldn't stand the thought of her cousin being one of the bodies PI Silva was called to investigate; Miguel was just so young.

God, what if it was him?

Rosa dialed her uncle's number. He picked up after the fifth ring. "Rosa? Did you find something?" He asked. He sounded like he was panting.

"Um, not exactly," she said uncertainly. "Are you okay?"

He hesitated. "I got chased out of a bar. Apparently a lot of police officers have been through here looking for people, and they don't like that around here." He sounded annoyed. "What's going on?"

Rosa rubbed her eyes. "I got a phone call from PI Silva. He says he might have found something."

Tío Enrique paused. "Really? I had no idea that PI Silva was still looking."

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "No exactly, Tío Enrique." She shoved her hand against her mouth, trying to keep a sob from coming out. "He says they found a body. We might need to identify it."

He wasn't following. "We wouldn't be able to identify a body from a hundred years ago, nena. They would meed forensics for that."

"It's not Papá Héctor we would be identifying," she said quietly.

He was quiet for a moment. "They found Miguel?" he asked softly.

Despite her best efforts at suppressing it, a sob escaped her mouth. "I think so," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Tío Enrique."  
\--------------------  
THAT EVENING  
Rosa drove most of the way. Her GPS landed her somewhere in an industrial district in Mexico City. The area was rough here, and Tío Enrique stayed close to her as they made their way past the car. He placed a hand on her shoulder as they made their way by a dark alleyway; it was late and he didn't like this area or the idea of someone getting a hold of her.

They entered the office building, and a small bell dinged as the door swung inward. Enrique and Rosa stepped inside, feeling on edge; neither of them had slept much the night before, and neither of them was ready to identify the body.

PI Silva looked up from his desk, which was shoved into the corner of the room. Files cluttered its surface. A single bulb lamp illuminated the space, making it look exactly like one of the crime shows Rosa used to watch. She didn't have the stomach for the, anymore.

"You're here," Silva said, not quite happily. He got up from his creaky desk chair. He shook Enrique's hand and gripped Rosa's. "I'm so sorry I couldn't meet up with you until now. We have been busy with other cases today."

Enrique gave him a look. "Why are you so involved in these cases? Aren't they supposed to be classified or something?"

Silva nodded. "They are. I used to be the detective here, but I retired. Naturally, that means I can never quit." He smiled wanly at them, before walking past them to open the door. "We should go to the labs. It is in the next building over." He led them down the street, conversationally talking about the weather and asking the, about their drive back to Mexico City.

As they passed by a group of men lounging in the alleyway, one of them whistled at Rosa.

She made a disgusted face, clearly used to it. Tío Enrique put a protective arm around her shoulder and led her forward with the PI. It was better not to engage here. 

Silva led the, to the brick building on the corner of his street. He used a ring of keys to opent the apparently closed office. A woman at the front desk nodded to them as they passed by; she packed her things away into her purse, apparently done with her day. Silva led them through a set of doors, where a plaque dictated they were entering the labs. Rosa instantly felt the chill. They were in the room where they kept the bodies.

"You're okay to do this?" asked Silva, looking between the two of them. "We can wait for the dental records to come back, but it will be a few days."

Enrique shook his head fervently. "No. Ineed to know now."

Rosa crossed her arms, feeling goosebumps emerge on her skin. "Me too," she said quietly.

Silva nodded. "Okay. We found five bodies in the site. Three of which match the description of Missing Person Miguel Rivera." He put his hands on the drawer handle and looked at them. "Brace yourselves."

He pulled the first drawer out, and the first thing they saw was the toe tag, 15Q. Rosa felt a little tug in her belly, and she wondered if she was going to be sick. But when they pulled the rest of the body out, and the face came into view, she almost did.

The body had a towel wrapped around his midsection, but he wasn't wearing any other clothes. There wer bruises all over his body, and he had dirt wedged in every crevice of his body. The man was around Miguel's age, for sure. But his features were all wrong. Of course, it was kind of difficult to tell because of the dirt and he had several bruises and scrapes all over his face. But they knew Miguel's fearures, and this wsn't him.

"This one we suspect was beaten to death and then ditched." Silva watched their reactions. "I take it this isn't your boy."

Rosa shook her head. She had seen a few dead bodies in her lifetime, but it had been at over ight vigils and funerals, and usually they were for people she loved. She had no idea how to feel about this person she had not attachment to, with no one around to call his family. This was how Papá Héctor had been: alone in the world with no one to claim him. It was a little difficult to take in. She clamped her mouth shut, looking at her Tío Enrique for his reaction.

He simply crossed one arm over his chest and put his hand against his mouth. "Let's check the next one. Please," he added gruffly. Rosa could tell he might be on the verge of crying.

"All right." Silva closed the drawer, sending the body back into the wall. He walked over several meters and pulled another drawer out. Toetag 26Q came out, attached to another still body only dressed in a single sheet.

Rosa staggered a little seeing the face of this one. He wasn't battered as the last man had been, but he looked so similar to Miguel it made her double take. This one's face was rounder like Miguel's and he had a similar eyebrow shape. Her stomach did another flip and she almost felt like she was going to throw up. But it wasn't him. It wasn't her little sonrinito.

Tío Enrique let out his breath in a sharp gust. "Another boy separated from his family. But he's not ours."

Silva nodded sharply. "All right, one more." He made his way over only two drawers and pulled out another body. 32Q was not Miguel, either. His skin color and face shape were all wrong, but he had a similar build to Miguel. No dice. "I take it this one isn't yours either."

Tío Enrique shook his head. "No, that's not my boy."

None of them had been Miguel. Which was both a blessing and a curse. Rosa almost wished that one of them had been Miguel. That way they would at least have some closure, and know what had happened to him. But the moment the thought entered her head, she wished she could unthink it. She was Miguel's cousin! His own flesh and blood! How could she wish such a thing on her cousin?

"I wish we knew where he was," Rosa said softly, holding her arms to her chest.

Tío Enrique wrapped her in a hug. "Me too, nena."

Silva frowned at them. "I'm sorry he's not here. I hope you find him soon." He looked between them. "I do have something else for you to check, if you don't mind. We found another shallow grave outside of town, but this one is very old. I knew that Miguel Rivera going missing would effectively cancel my contract, but I had to keep looking. I have another body in dry storage."

He watched their reactions. Neither Rivera said a word for a moment. But then Rosa spoke up. "Another body for us to check?"

Silva nodded. He led them out of the labs to walk them down another hallway. "The subject doesn't have any skin left, but they did have a few clothing items which we went through for ID." He talked as he led them through a doorway. He walked past a desk to a set of clear drawers illuminated by a light drom the back. Rosa could see they all held remains of different skeletons, each only identified by numbers and letters. There were at least a hundred of them.

A hundred Héctors.

Silva pulled out a drawer set at about eye level, with a small box at the front. Within the box they could sse a few items, including a photo of the body and its burial ground, a small rusted pocketknife, some very old oesos, what looked like a wooden guitar pick, and a photograph. Silva slipped on a glove before lifting the photo out of the bone drawer.

"Is this familiar?" he asked them, holding it out for them to see.

Enrique gaped, his mouth going wide. Rosa's eyes immediately went to the bones in the drawer, which had been scrubbed clean and shone.

"That's...that's Papá Héctor," she whispered.

Silva's eyebrows skyrocketed upward. "You're certain?" he asked, looking between the two of them. Tío Enrique only stared at the remains.

Rosa nodded dumbly. She dug her phone out of her pocket, and began frantically surfing through messsages she had exchanged with Miguel, including when he had sent her a copy of the photo to print at the library. She pulled up the image of Papá Héctor, Mamá Imelda, and baby Coco, showing it to Silva.

"That's my Papá Héctor, my tatarabuelito," she said. "He was the músico who went missing."

Silva sighed. "If that's the case, we need to make a claim to redeem the remains and give them to your family. I am assuming you want to take him home, right?"

Enrique blurted, "Sí, we want him." He looked queasy.

Silva nodded. "Okay." He looked down before closing the srawer. "I'm sorry. I wish I could have found Miguel for you."

Rosa shook her head bemusedly. "I'm glad you didn't." It would mean taking two Riveras home in caskets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally the Missing Mariachi are found.
> 
> That's all. End of fic. Bye bye :)
> 
> Jkjkjk
> 
> I have a lot more up my sleeve >:)


	3. Por Ningún Lado

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days following after Miguel is found
> 
> The night Miguel is lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Nowhere to be Found"

APRIL 10, 2155  
Yolanda Rivera clicked off her television, done with watching it for the day. She had put the twins to bed over an hour ago, and was now getting ready to get herself to bed. Her husband was already asleep; he worked at the water treatment plant and had to be there by three in the morning.

Her phone said it was around 11:15 when she finally crawled into bed. But just as she pulled the covers up to her chin, it whined with the announcement of a phonecall.

Yolanda quickly seized the phone and silenced it, thinking only of waking her husband, who had to be dressed in his boots and on the compound floor by three.

She blearily looked at the name flashing across her phone. "HILARIA" and a couple of emojis displayed on her screen.

Yolanda quickly left the bedroom, her husband barely stirring. Her heart began to hammer; why would Hilaria be calling her so late? She knew that her niece was involved in some pretty scary crime-fighting vigilante group. But the last time they had spoken, Hilaria had not touched it for several years because she needed to focus on her work and undergrad.

It had to be an emergency. Yolanda walked down the dark hallway and finally pressed the ANSWER button.

"Bueno," she answered tiredly.

"Hola, Tía Yolanda," came Hilaria's voice. "I'm sorry to call you so late--"

"Are you okay?" she asked. There were probably a thousand other people that Hilaria could call; the two women were over a thousand miles apart. But if need be, Yolanda would be on a plane and headed to her niece as soon as humanly possible.

Hilaria sighed heavily. "I am. I'm okay. But..." she trailed off, unsure of where to go.

Yolanda settled into her spot in the living room sofa. It was still warm from when she had been watching television and folding laundry about twenty minutes ago. "What's the matter mija?"

Hilaria's voice was tight as she answered. "Do you remember the Missing Mariachi? Not Héctor, but the other one?"

Yolanda's mind went through a loop. Of course she knew the mariachi. Those two idiot musicians were legends in the family. The whole reason behind the family's original music ban, and the reason that the family had been supersticious about sending their young ones away to become musicians. "Yes, honey, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"We found him. We found Miguel Rivera."

Oh. Yolanda's eyebrows shot up in surprise. She had barely speculated about the missing musician besides the notion that she thought maybe he had abandoned the family or been murdered like Héctor was. "Really? Are you sure?" She looked at the clock above the television set; her bed was calling her name.

"Sí. We are sure. DNA match and everything. He shares over 30% DNA with me, which is quite high as far as great geeat uncles go--"

Yolanda rested her head in her hands. "That's great Hilaria. You can bring his remains home and we can have a vigil." Lord why was this child so excited and alert at this time of night?

"That's the thing though--we can't take him home yet."

"Oh? Something about rights to a body?" Yolanda could feel a small fire igniting in her soul; if she needed to fight for one of her own to come home, she would make it happen. A call to their lawyer and a few clicks would get her a whole troup started. They would bring the bones of their missing mariachi home if it was the death of her.

Hilaria laughed nervously. "No, no nothing like that. You see--the thing is--" she hesitated again.

Yolanda leaned forward. "What is it?"

"Well, Miguel, he's still alive."

Now Yolanda was sure this was a joke. "You're telling me that your great-great uncle, whom has been missing for over a hundred years--"

"One hundred and thirty."

"One hundred and thirty years, just appeared out of the blue. And that he is alive."

Hilaria's voice was filled with conviction. "I know it sounds crazy, Tía Yolanda. But it's true. We found him trapped underground in a coma. He has been sleeping all this time. He has no idea what is going on." She paused. "The doctors don't want to tell him what's going on til they can run some tests, but I--I want him to know he's not alone."

Hilaria had a big heart. Sometimes it got her well in over her head. The whole crime-fighting group had been one thing, but it wasn't strange to hear that Hilaria had overspent her time, money, or self helping other people out. It was just the kind of person she was. And now she ws convinced she was doing this for family.

Yolanda leaned back, letting out a long sigh. "You're sure? He's not just some lookalike or a long-lost cousin?"

"Sí. He thinks it's 2027. The same year he went missing."

Good Lord was she going to need to pray about this. "You're sure?"

Hilaria was ever patient with her aunt. "I wouldn't have called if I wasn't sure." She lowered her voice, as if being mindful of someone nearby her. "Do you think you could...check in with the others?"

It took her a moment to understand what her niece was talking about. "The familia? You mean--"

"Yes. If you can. It would be nice to get their input too."

Yolanda understood. She would hold a family meeting when it came time. "Okay."

"I'm sorry I called so late," Hilaria apologized again. "I just couldn't get away. It's the first time I have been alone since this project began."

"Don't worry about it, nena. We can sort this out. As a family, okay? I will prepare him a place to stay--"

Hilaria cut her off. "I'm sorry Tía Yolanda, pero Miguel won't be able to go to Santa Cecilia for a long while. His body is very atrophied. He needs a lot of serious physical therapy, as well as psychiatric therapy. And that's if there is nothing else physically ailing him. I wouldn't be surprised if they banned him from travel for the next year because of his health."

She could sort of understand that. She rubbed her tired eyes. "He doesn't know anything, huh?"

"Not a thing. He's alone in this world. Which is why I haven't left his side, but...I can't do it alone."

So she would be packing a bag. Just not as quickly as she wanted to. They had to brief Miguel--good Lord 2027 was so long ago. Imagine all that had changed in that time. "I will help you, mija. When the doctor tells him, call me up. I will be there as soon as I can."

Hilaria sighed. It was as if a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. Yolanda worried about Hilaria sometimes; she was such a special girl and being wrapped up in the politics of a high-profile hospital was draining on a student. Especially one as sweet as Hilaria, who had a difficult time saying no.

"Gracias Tía Yolanda. Te quiero."

"Te quiero," Yolanda murmured, before hanging up.

She stared at her phone for a few moments, trying to process what she had heard. Their missing mariachi, so far removed from this time he was deemed a legend, was now alive and kicking? And he had no idea what year it was?

That would not do. Yolanda went straight to her contacts list, ready to make a list of people to call.

\-------------------  
Feb 27, 2027

Nina pulled out her phone again to dial Miguel's number. It was an hour after the concert was supposed to start and he was still nowhere in sight. Miguel was not one to bounce on people, and he was usually very punctual. Even to his own casual hangouts, he would be prepared more than half an hour early just in case someone showed up before meetup or he forgot something.

She placed her phone against her ear and leaned against his dressing table. The makeup crew had left already; they had done the backup dancers and the other musicians' faces, why did they need to stay? The talent was not there and the show had already started.

She was sent to voicemail once more. "Hey, Tito, it's me again. Call me when you get this. I'm starting to freak out a little here." She added a quick, "Te amo," before slamming her thumb to the end button. 

And she was freaking out. She was starting to get a little miffed, too. Not only because he was over an hour late to his own concert, but because they were supposed to be reuniting tonight to take the drive back down to Oaxáca together. It wluld be the first time she had seen him in over four months. Well, in person. She had video chatted him so many times, but that only went so far and--

Her thoughts were interrupted when Miguel's agent popped his head into the dressing room. He took in the empty room with a sweep of his eyes and sighed sharply.

"No luck?" Nina asked, knowing his answer.

The short blonde man shook his head as he entered the room and closed the door behind him. "No." He turned to face her, pressing his hands together. Nina quite liked Miguel's manager for the most part, but she had never seen him mad or worried before, which made her nervous. Right now, he seemed to be both. "Luckily the opener band was willing to do a few more songs, but they didn't have two hours worth of material to perform. Miguel's subsequent bands are playing now. He's so fucking lucky this is a colab concert, otherwise we would be in so much trouble." He looked expectantly up at Nina, pushing his glasses up on his face. "You're sure you haven't heard from him?"

She shook her head sadly. "No. He just--isn't answering. I'm scared something happened to him."

The manager crossed his arms over his suit jacket. "Me too, kiddo." He looked off to the side. "If he doesn't show up in twenty more minutes I am calling the police."

It felt like a pit had settled into Nina's stomach. She hoped it didn't come to that. That Miguel was maybe just caught up with a friend, or that he had broken his phone, or maybe he had had to walk. His social medias would have blown up if that were the case; he was pretty well known in the States.

Nina checked her Snapchat and Instagram again, searching for tags of Miguel. So far only that they had skipped him on the concert order. No one knew yet, or suspected that he was missing. She could only guess at the horrors a little thirteen year old girl who claimed to be in love with her boyfriend would do if she found out he was missing.

Nina clicked out of Insta and looked up at Raul. "Nothing on his medias yet."

He shook his head and leaned against the wall. "Yeah, twenty minutes or we call the police. He's an adult so they might not look into it for twenty-flur hours. And even then, they might say he checked into rehab." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "This kid will be the death of me. He does a lot of nice things for people but he always neglects his own safety."

Nina thought of the burning building Miguel had run into last summer to save a puppy. He was a hero, but he was stupid when it came to his own self-preservation. And Nina knew why. She had seen the Tierra de los Muertos herself, and knew about Miguel's trip there. She wasn't worried about dying either, at least not more than normal.

But Miguel...he was borderline idiotic when it came to risking his life. He was a daredevil. He liked to take risks. He knew what came after this world and wasn't afraid to walk backwards over a cliff.

But Nina wanted a long happy life with him. She wouldn't get that if he kept pulling these stupid stunts. He had promised that he would not get into anything dangerous. He had promised he would be more careful.

But he wasn't.

Raul grew silent, hanging his head as he tried to come up with a plan. Nina sat down heavily in the makeup chair, feeling like a whole building was weighing on her shoulders. She looked down at her phone again to check her medias, but somethingb blipped on her screen along with a strange ringtone she had never heard.

It was a little alert message she had never seen before. The banner flashed across the middle of her screen with an exclamation point and the phrase: EMERGENCY ALERT

Nina's heart lodged in her throat as she read the next sentence. CONTACT "TITO 🖤🖤🖤" HAS PLACED A DISTRESS CALL TO THIS DEVICE. CONTACT WAS LAST PINGED AT 432 S LINCOLN AVE. EMERGENCY SERVICES HAVE BEEN NOTIFIED. 

Nina was glad she was sitting down because she felt woozy all of a sudden. She had heard about the new feature on an iPhone that sent out emergency notices to choice contacts if you pressed the lock button five times. She had hoped she would never have to use it, or that she would never be the receiver of such an alert.

She lifted her phone to show Raul, but his phone pinged with a similar alarm a second later. He frowned as he read it.

"Miguel's sent a distress call." He stated it matter-of factly.

Nina nodded once. "What--what do we do?" she asked then, her mouth feeling dry. Nina was not the best in crisis situations. She was known to throw up or pass out or both if things got too heavy. She rubbed her forehead with her free hand, suddenly feeling clammy.

He looked at her with raised eyebrows, as if to ask her if she was all right. But then he shook his head. "I'm going to go to this location to go see if Miguel is there." He read his phone screen one more time. "It looks like police have already been contacted, but I want to go see if I can help them in any way."

A bad feeling crept down Nina's spine. Somethibg told her she needed to go with Raul.

Nina got out of her chair. "I'm coming too," she announced, a little too loudly. She felt wobbly on her legs and she wondered if she looked as pale as she felt.

Raul did the head-tilt thing that people did to start their whole dismissal monologues, but Nina cut him off. "I'm coming too. He's my novio. He's just as important to me as he is to you."

He sighed shortly again. "Fine. Just--don't pass out or whatever," he said, grabbing his coat off the rack in the corner of the room. "Let's go."

Nina followed Raul down the hallway, where they took a sharp left and got into an elevator. They were brought down a few flights and the doors opened to a small parking garage. But all the cars inside were fancier than most of the people's she would expect to see at the concert. There were a lot of trucks, too. Nina didn't know about this lot; she had had to take an Über to get to the concert anyway.

"This is where the musicians and managers park," Raul supplied, continuing his brisk pace down one row of nice-looking Ferraris. Nina didn't know anything about fancy cars, but she had grown up around them. Her family was old money. She had been in a few of these bad boys, though she didn't own any herself.

Raul got into a yellow Mozerati and guestured for her to do the same. He popped his airpods in and began to mutter into them. Nina clamored into the passenger seat of the car, as he started the wngine.

This was the nicest car she had ever been in. It smelled brand-new. And the leather was sleek, with dark blue thread lining the seat. It was definitely custom. And the engine was quieter than anything she had ever been in.

"Yes, we got a ping from his phone." Raul continued to talk into his phone as he set his car's GPS to the location that had flashed in the alert. "I don't know, let me ask." He backed out of his parking spot and faced Nina. "Did he send you anything else?"

She shook her head. "No. I checked my phone like six times." She looked at all of her apps again, just to make sire. "Nothing."

He frowned. "Great."

The engine roared as they drove forward. It sounded a thousand times louder than it should have been, but Nina blamed the spoiler. She knew they weren't going that fast but she gripped the handle above her door anyway.

Her phone started ringing. MAMÁ LUISA flashed across her screen. Miguel's mamá, calling from Mexico. She must have gotten the message. She pressed the phone to her ear.

"Bueno," she answered. Miguel's mamá only spoke Spanish so she would be doing some translating if it came to that once they found Miguel and the police.

"Mija," A deep voice answered. Nina frowned for a moment before she realized that it must have been Miguel's papá Enrique. "What's going on?"

Nina felt her gut sink. She didn't call them because she didn't want to worry them. But apparently Miguel had sent his distress call out and there was no going back. "Miguel didn't show up to his gig this evening. We all just got the same message."

Enrique's voice was strict as it came across next. "He was supposed to meet up with you. Did you call him?"

"Several times," she quipped. She didn't mean to be snippy, but she was stressing out and Raul wasn't exactly driving safer now that they were out on public roads. He skated through yellow light after yellow light, a determined expressinon on his face as he apprehended his runaway musician.

The GPS said they were two minutes away. She could hold down her dinner or refrain from passing out for that long, right?

Papá Enrique was quiet for a moment. "The girls," meaning Socorro and Luisa, "are watching the concert now on the television. They had no idea that anything was amiss. They only said that they were changing up the order to ight."

Nina swallowed hard. "We're going to the location that came up on my phone. It's not far from the concert hall. We're hurrying; Miguel should still be there when we get there."

She checked the app on her phone; the little pin on her map had jot moved, so Miguel had not moved either.

"Okay," Enrique said, breathing out. "I've never gotten a notification like this."

Nina looked outside at the city lights passing her by. "Me too."

He laughed nervously. "It's troubling, isn't it?" 

She swallowed. "Yeah. Um, hold on."

Raul pulled the car to a stop, flicking on his hazard lights. There were two police cars parked by an alleyway, their lights flashing. Raul got out of the car before Nina could ask what she should do.

Feet feeling heavy, Nina pulled herself out of the passenger seat to go toward the officers. She swiped away the phone call to look at the locator app. Miguel was here, somewhere.

Raul began to speak to the officers, two SFPD officers who decided he was dressed like someone who knew what was going on. They began to ask him questions. Nina ignored them in favor of trying to get to where here phone was telling her to go.

She looked behind the two parked cop cars. There was nothing in the alley, it seemed. Just a bunch of garbage that had not been picked up, both in bags in a large dumpster, and strewn about the street. She took hesitant steps toward the alley, the sinking feeling entering her whole being.

Her phone indicated she was going the right way, even though the address said that one of the buildings beside her was where Miguel was located.

The acrid smell of piss wafted into her nostrils and she grimaced. Why was Miguel here? Was he hurt?

She got to the end of the alley, spotting nothing. But her phone said that she had passed him.

That couldn't be right; Nina turned around and looked more closely at the environment surrounding her. Her heart hammered loudly in her ears as she began to look at the garbage surrounding her.

Was Miguel in the dumpster?

Nina frowned, looking at the little blip that her phone said was Miguel. She pressed on it with her finger and three options popped up.

CONTACT FOUND (WILL CANCEL EMERGENCY SERVICES)  
SEND MESSAGE TO CONTACT  
PLAY SOUND

Nina faced the dumpster. "Miguel?" she called. 

No answer. Nina lifted the left side of the two-part lid but all that greeted her were bags and bags of garbage. If he were here, he was buried in junk.

Bracing herself, she heaved herself up on top of the right side of the dumpster. She wished that she was wearing boots and gloves if she needed to search the dumpster.

As Nina looked around her, she realized there was no way that he was here however; the can was not nearly deep enough to fit a fully grown man. Miguel was skinny, but he was still two meters tall and gangly as all getout.

But her phone told her he was here. Nina huffed out through her teeth and pressed the PLAY SOUND option. To her surprise, a loud ringer played just beside her ear, right above the trash canister.

She turned, expecting to see Miguel peeking his head out of the window there. But no. His phone was sitting on the window ledge, playing the loudest alarm noise she had ever heard. She reached to pick up the phone but a loud noise stopped her.

"Hey! What are you doing up there?" called one of the officers. Raul stayed at the entrance to the alleyway, rubbing the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. 

The police officer bounded up to her, his shoes clopping on the damp sidewalk. He caught up to her and looked at the phone that still rang louder than a WW2 era bomb shelter siren.

His eyes said it all as his expression sunk. "Is that his phone?" 

Nina nodded. "Um, yeah, I guess so." She pressed the END SOUND option on her phone and the wailing stopped. Her face fell as she stared at Miguel's phone, now silent, now unaccompanied by its owner. She gingerly took it in her hand, trying to only touch the edges.

The officer hung his head. "That was our only lead. As of right now I can't do anything until either twenty-four hours has passed and you file a missing person's report, or someone hints at knowing his location."

Nina stared numbly at Miguel's phone. He was supposed to be right here. She vaguely registered that Enrique was still trying to speak to her from her own phone but she couldn't get her brain to start working so she could answer his worried questions. She was trying to wrap her head around the fact that only a few minutes ago, Miguel was here, and now he was not. She slowly got down from the trash can lid and meandered toward the police officer.

The officer looked at her, seeming to finally notice her. "Who are you anyway?" 

She blinked. "Um, Katerina Bernal, señor." She lowered her phone and Enrique's voice was drowned out by a roaring in her ears. "Miguel's girlfriend."

The other officer came up to them, her blonde hair tied back in a tight bun. She nodded at Nina before addressing the male officer. "Hey, Sarge, I've got another call from the other side of the city. There are riots breaking out."

The officer nodded. He looked directly at Nina with a fierce expression. "File a missing person's report, and after twenty-four hours we will put someone on the case."

Nina furrowed her eyebrows. "Wait, you can't just--"

The officer turned his back. "I have other things I need to attend to. File the report." He walked away from her, leaving Nina with two cell phones and no answers.

Nina felt her anger gather in her center. She began to apprehend the officer, but just before she could reach his arm, a white hand shot out to stop her.

"Don't," commanded Raul. "Don't risk it."

Nina yanked her hand free. "What the hell?"

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. He suddenly looked a thousand years older. "Don't make this worse. We need to play by their rules or they won't help us."

Nina gaped at him. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Raul pulled his hands out of his face, to look at her seriously. He looked genuinely torn as to whether he was going to tell her his reasoning, but finally he relented. "Miguel is an adult. They don't go searching automatically for adults unless there is a witness to kidnappings." Nina tried to interrupt him but he cut her off. "Miguel is also Mexican." He lowered his voice. "The police are less likely to help someone from Mexico than they are an American citizen."

Nina scrunched her face in anger. "He has dual citizenship! Miguel is both American and Mexican, it's--"

He set an arm on her shoulder gently. "The officers won't see it that way."

She yanked her arm free, but she knew he was right. There were better ways to fight this. In a court, by their rules. Nina hated to admit it, but she wasn't from here; she didn't know the laws or the culture as well as Raul or Miguel did. Raul had the money and resources at his fingertips to make a case for them.

But first, they needed to start looking for Miguel. If the police refused to help, they would figure out something on their own.

She looked down at her phone, but the screen had gone blank. Papá Enrique must have hung up, or been disconnected. Nina couldn't remember if she had accidentally clicked END on the phone call.

Raul's phone began to ring. Nina knew exactly who it was before he answered nervously. "Mr. Rivera? Hello, yes it's me." He paused. "Did Miguel give you my number?"

The reply was muffled but Nina did not need to listen to know that Enrique was pissed and worried. Miguel had only ever run away one other time, and he had made a promise never to do it again. He had obligations to his family, and he was a good man. He would never abandon his family.

Nina leaned against the wall as the two men talked, pulling out a pack of gum she kept stashed in her purse. Chewing it, she mulled over what they could do to try to find her novio. Her eyes drifted up to the rooftops of the two buildings on either side of her, and she spotted it.

A camera, facing the building beside her. It would have been focused on the entrance to the alleyway, and would have seen Miguel enter and leave it. She looked up at the buolding she leaned against, finally paying attention to where her GPS had actually brought her. It was a bank. Of course they would have cameras.

But how would they get the footage? She crossed her arms as she stared at the building, a frown marring her features. The bank was closed as of right now but maybe she could get someone to check the records tonorrow?

She ascended the steps to the front door of the bank, and spotted the hours listed.

Fuck. They wouldn't be open til Monday. That was too long to be wondering what had happened to him. She slapped the door in annoyance, glancing back at Raul. By now, the police cars had backed away and had zipped away to go tend to the unrest on the other side of town. Nina vaguely wondered what they would be rioting this late at night, but she didn't have to guess based on how things were going in the States.

Raul was beckoning for her to get in the car as he talked on the phone, probably trying to calm down Miguel's parents as best he could. She should have been the one doing that. But she had no idea how she would console them when she herself was feeling weak-kneed.

She looked back through the bank's glass door one last time, determined to come back. But when she did, she spotted something inside. Behind the teller counter, she could see a strange green light.

A sense of familiarity swept through her. She had seen this light before, but it took a moment to register.

"Oh shit!" Nina cried, trying to leap back from the building. But before she could, the green light erupted into a fiery explosion. The entire building came crumbling down, burrying Nina in rubble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you could not tell, Hilaria is Honey Lemon.
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments!


	4. Back to Your Roots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nina gets out of the hospital
> 
> The family decides what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw contains hospital stay/recovery.

MARCH 25, 2027 

Enrique waited in the lobby of the hospital. It had been difficult to get all of his paperwork together and get his family to cover his shifts at the shop. But they had done it. They had gotten him to the States.

He chewed his thumbnail anxiously. It seemed like the past month none of his questions had been answered. And they had only hardened into pure anxiety when he heard of Nina's condition.

The building collapsing had been a complete mystery. No one knew what had caused it, or why Miguel's phone had been nearby. Enrique had been on the phone with Raul when Nina had been buried alive. It was only by some grace of God that she had survived, even if she had not come out completely unscathed. She would be affected by this incident for the rest of her life.

The woman who had spoken to him over the phone had told him that he needed to be positive and encouraging for Nina when he picked her up. He knew about her condition, so his job was to not be surprised or sad or angry when he retrieved her. Enrique tried to focus on other things now that his mind was corroded with bad thoughts. Nina would be coming home today. That was a good thing, he decided.

He knew he would rather be bringing Nina and Miguel home together, but Nina needed to come back to Santa Cecilia to rest. They had set up top-knotch physical therapy for her and gotten in contact with a list of psychiatrists and therapists who were eilling to work with her. It was up to Nina to pick one to work with. No expense was too high when it came to the young woman's health.

The family would regroup in the following days to decide what to do about Miguel. Things were up in the air after Miguel's disappearance and the building collapse. And emotionally the family had been a mess. Everyone had all been walking on egg-shells and feeling like hollow versions of themselves.

But now was the time for force. Nina needed love and support. She needed to heal and rest while they took the reigns on Miguel's situaltion. Enrique knew thay Miguel's search parties were going to get bored or their funds were going to dwindle out. Enrique would not rest until his son was found.

"Mr. Rivera?" asked a female voice.

Enrique found himself standing up out of respect. "Yes?" he asked, responding back in English.

A tall African American woman dressed in mint green scrubs addressed Enrique. "I'm Nina's nurse, Deja. I have Miss Bernal ready to go," she smiled at him. "She's ready to come home. We just need her to sign some paperwork and get her payments areanged."

Enrique nodded. "I want to cover all of her expenses."

Enrique knew that medical bills in the States was extreme. They were probably looking at charges in the tens of thousands. But they would handle it. The Riveras had more than enough money to spare, what with Héctor's royalties, Miguel's royalties, and the shop's income now that it was a global novelty.

"Very well. She said you might say that, and she told me to tell you no." The nurse cocked a brow at him.

He shrugged; they would inevitably pay for Nina's medical expenses anyway. She was part of the family now whether she liked it nor not. "Is she good to go then?"

The nurse nodded. "We're getting her medicine ready now." Her voice lowered. "Will you be taking care of her for the next little while?"

Enrique nodded. "I won't be, but my wife will. We are flying back to Mexico so she can rest at home. Nina was just visiting when she got hurt. She's my son's girlfriend."

Enrique wanted to stuff his words back in his mouth. He was starting to get nervous, and when he did he just seemed to spew words. He guessed it had to do with the fact that he was not used to speaking English or that he was nervous to bring Nina home.

The nurse nodded to him again. "Okay. Just be sure to follow the instructions on her medicine very clearly, okay? We don't want to risk her health any further. There is also a guide on selecting a therapist for her packed among the other items."

Enrique nodded. Nina had been through some traumatic events the past few weeks. Losing Miguel as well as being almost crushed to death by a building had been tragic for her. He was the closest thing she had to family to come bring her home, so here he was, her knight in shining armor.

Luisa had already made up a bed for her in Miguel's room. They would take care of anything that Nina needed. Therapy, medicine, money, any of it. All of it. They were her remaining family now. And with Miguel gone, they had to stick together until he could be found.

The nurse brightened. "Ah, here she is now." She smiled at someone behind him.

Enrique turned around to watch as a nurse in dark red scrubs wheeled Nina into the lobby. He had been warned ahead of time about her condition; but the wheelchair still startled him somewhat. It was simply hospital policy to wheel out patients who had been in for long-term stays lest they collapse on their way to their cars.

Her injuries had had nothing to do with her spine or her legs. Nina had been crushed by tons of rubble; remnants of the scrapes and bruising still marred her skin, but it was much better now. She looked significantly much more alive than she had been; her hair and teeth had been cleaned, and she actually smiled at Enrique when their eyes met.

Nina had undergone immediate surgery after the paramedics had dug her out of the collapsed building; one of her lungs had collapsed and they had had to drain fluid out of it for several days afterward. The entire right side of her torso had been crushed, including her arm, which they had not been able to save. Nina's arm now ended just above the elbow, where it was still taped off and would need to be monitored and rebandaged for her stitching. She was still working with a couple of cracked ribs but there was not much they could do about them.

Nina smiled at him, tears collecting in her eyes. "Papá Quique," she whispered. She had never called him that before, which made his heart squeeze.

Everything froze for a moment. Enrique found himself leaning forward and gently hugging Nina. She cried, holding him fiercely with her left arm, keeping her right braced against her side. He placed his hand on the back of her head and kissed her temple, tears falling from his eyes too. He ached for her; nothing he could say to this girl he considered a daughter would ease her suffering. They stayed like that for a long time before gently pulling apart.

Enrique rested a hand on her cheek. "Are you all right mija?" He spoke in Spanish for her benefit and her privacy. "You can tell me, anything you need, okay?"

She nodded, her eyes still full of tears. "Sí, sí. I'm so sorry, we weren't fast enough--"

It took him a moment to register what she was saying. "Don't worry about Miguel right now, okay? We'll talk about it as a family when we get home."

She nodded, wiping at her face clumsily with her left hand. Nina had been right-handed before the whole incident. Now she would have to earn everything all over again from scratch. He pulled a clean tissue out of his pocket and handed it to her.

The nurse pushing Nina smiled at them. "I'm glad you were here to gather Nina today." She had a kind of fake smile that belonged in toothpaste commercials. She nodded at Deja, who waved excitedly to Nina and walked away.

The woman pushing Nina held up a canvas bag. "We have two outfits in here for Miss Bernal as well as a few courtesy items from the gift shop. Her paperwork and billing information, as well as first fill of medication are in here as well."

She did her fake smile at Nina. "Are you ready to go home with your papa?"

Nina nodded, not bothering to correct the Cheshire cat nurse. "Yeah." She turned to Enrique to speak to him in Spanish. "Did you park in front?" 

He nodded; they had asked him to park in the DEPARTING zone so they could easier load Nina into the rental.

"Okay. They told me I have to be wheeled out but I can walk once we get to the airport."

He wasn't entirely eager to test that theory; even though only the right side of her torso had been crushed she had been on bedrest for a little while. He had already rented an airport wheelchair to settle her in just in case she got tired. But their flight was not for a few hours and he wanted to get some regular American, not-from-a-hospital food in her belly before the flight.

"All right then." Enrique nodded to the nurse as he took the bags from her. He wheeled Nina out of the lobby and out the front doors of the hospital, where the rental sat. It was a modest grey hatchback, but it was the safest model they had had available at the time.

He unlocked the car with the key fob, then ran around Nina's side to open the door for her. She was already on her feet and ready to get in. Once she settled into her seat and clicked her own seatbelt, she waved at the nurse watching from outside. Her Cheshire grin found them once again as she took Nina's borrowed wheelchair back into the hospital entrance.

Enrique settled into the drivers side of the car. It felt like something had finally settled into its place, even though a part of the family was not there. 

Miguel was still missing. It had been over a month and no news of a ransom had emerged about his son's disappearance. Various celebrity gossip channels and magazines had spectualted on whether Miguel had been murdered, gone to rehab, run away, or been bducted.

He doubted that Miguel had been murdered. Either Dante or Pepita would have crossed over the Marigold Bridge with a note to explain that if he had. As it were, the alebrijes had not crossed over since Miguel was last in Santa Cecilia. Enrique wondered if the other side of the bridge even knew that Miguel was missing. But, based on how the news was splashed on every cover of every magazine, he doubted they would be in the dark for long. At the very latest, they would find out on Día de los Muertos.

Lord, he hoped Miguel would not be gone that long.

Of course, at three and a half weeks, it was incredibly too long. The investigators they had hired had told him the trail had gone cold. Miguel's phone had no foreign fingerprints on it. So it had to have been Miguel who placed the distress call. And in the eight minutes between the distress call and the police officers reaching Miguel's most recently known location, he had gone missing.

A news blurb popped up on the car's radio. Of course, they talked about Miguel's disappearance, but people were going to be taking about it until they got bored of running the story on the "missing cinnamon roll". He tried not to pay much attention to the popperazzi's beliefs that his son was in rehab. They would have notified him if Miguel was put in rehab. Or, he liked to think so. Privacy of patients and all that. But Miguel wasn't a drug user.

Enrique knew that almost every parent would deny that their child was an addict. But Miguel had been very staunch about avoiding the "heavy duty artillery" that some musicians pumped through their systems in Hollywood. Miguel had told his parents he was "not about that life" on multiple occasions. It had made pride surge through Enrique's veins. But maybe he should have been worried for his son. As the weeks dragged by he felt like maybe he should have been considering his son's possible intersection with LA's harder substances.

Others suggested that Miguel had simply just run away. True, he faced a lot more obligation now. He not only represented himself, but the entire Rivera family and all of Santa Cecilia. Papá Héctor. Their legacy. There was a lot of pressure on their son's shoulders. Enrique would not have blamed Miguel if he had felt overwhelmed and had to back down. But he knew his son well enough that he doubted he would just abandon them like this. Especially if he had sent out an emergency alert first.

The last, and most frequent theory, that people speculated on was abduction. Enrique hated speculating on this one. If Miguel had been abducted with intent to return him, the family would have received a ransom note by now. Or a threat. True, anyone who kidnapped Miguel would have probably reached out through some social media, but nothing had come up. Enrique and Rosa had spent hours scouring the Internet for any signs that Miguel's ransom had been posted anywhere.

But there had not been a message sent to any of the Riveras. No notes, emails, PMs, DMs, Snaps, or Tweets. So if Miguel had been kidnapped, whomever took him was not going to return him.

Enrique shuddered at the implications behind this thought. It made him sick to think about what people were capable of. He had heard absolute horror stories about the horrors of having a loved on abducted. But he had never imagined these things would happen to him.

He pressed the starter button of the car, trying not to feel weird about how he didn't have to turn an ignition to start the engine. Nina was quiet as they drove away from the hospital.

They were both done crying, but the melancholy feeling of their reunion still hung in the air. They were still missing a significant piece to their puzzle. Neither said anything for over half an hour as he drove them away from the city. They had just left the bridge over the San Francisco Bay when Nina spoke.

"He's not with the others," Nina muttered, staring out the window at the passing scenery.

Enrique turned down the radio, though it was already very low. "What, Nina?"

She turned her head to look at him. "Miguel. He's not with the others. The--" she made a light gesture with her left hand. "Deceased ones."

Oh. The others. Meaning Mamá Imelda. Meaning Miguel wasn't dead? Enrique furrowed his brow.

"How do you know that?"

She stared straight ahead, a hard expression marring her features. "Because I checked."

His brain whirred with questions. Miguel was not with the other Riveras. Meaning he was not dead, or that he had simply not reunited with them yet. But how had Nina come across that information?

"Why do you know that?" he asked warily.

Enrique was no stranger to Nina's gift. He knew she could occasionally see and interact with the dead. He knew she had visited the Tierra de los Muertos, but as far as he knew it had only ever been on Día de los Muertos, in November, when she had done any of those things. It was March now.

She stared forward at the road ahead of them. Enrique had read something about the car being one of the best places to emulate one's feelings. Two minds in an enclosed space, physically going the same direction subconsciously meant emotionally heading in the same direction. Linear thinking and all that. But he didn't feel like his mind was going anywhere near the same direction that Nina's was.

"I visited them," she answered.

Enrique's heart palpatated in his chest. "You visited--Nina, that's--"

"Dangerous?" she interrupted. Her face was set in a scowl. "Could kill me? Could traumatize me? Could leave me permanently damaged?"

He needed to calm down. Finding a safe-looking exit, he pulled off the freeway and into a parking lot by some coastal overlook.

The Día de los Muertos where Miguel had gone missing all night came to mind. The family had been worried sick for him, searching every area high and low, and unbeknownst to them their searching had been in vain because Miguel was somehwere else entirely. Where he had gone, and where Nina had gone later on, had risked their lives just to be there. Death would have stolen them by morning if they had stayed long enough.

Nina breathed out through her nose. "I didn't curse myself to get there, if that's what you're worried about. I used my magic to get there while I was asleep." She looked up at him. "I astral projected myself. So I was like a spirit in their world."

"Did you talk to them?" he asked. Questions whirled in Enrique's head. He had no idea she could visit the Tierra de los Muertos outside of All Saint's Day. "What did they say?"

She shook her head slowly. "They couldn't see me. Because I had only projected myself, only part of me went there. It was like I was this spirit in their world. Like on Día de los Muertos," she explained. "They are here but we can't see them. Only it was just me and they could not see me."

He nodded. "I suppose that makes sense." Although really it didn't. Nina had told them about her power in confidence. People like Gloria had latched onto it, eager to explore its possibilities, and Mamá Elena had been wary of participating in it in favor of "following the Lord." Enrique found himself somewhere in between. Part of him was still in awe about the idea of there being a Tierra de los Muertos. He had guessed that when they died they became angels or something similar to that, that Jesus would guide their souls. He still believed that, to some extent, but he had to admit lately the waters were being tested. Especially now.

She continued. "I went into the Rivera home, to check on the family." She shook her head. "They were celebrating I think Victoria's birthday." Nina looked back at Enrique. "I checked the entire house, and I even checked on the alebrijes, but Miguel wasn't there." She sunk in her seat.

"They don't know," Enrique realized, sinking back himself. This was a good thing, right? It meant that Miguel wasn't dead. That he was alive, still.

But that also meant that his son could be anywhere on the entire planet by now. Anywhere at all, whether it was his own free will or not. He had imagined he would be absolutely relieved if he could be told for sure that his son was still alive. But now it filled him with anxiety.

"You're sure that Ernesto or one of his lackeys doesn't have him?" He was reaching, he knew it. But he had to know. He had to take every chance.

Nina shook her head. "As of right now, that man and his most trusted handymen are behind bars. There's no way they could get to Miguel, even if he was dead."

Enrique frowned. "You did this in your sleep? How long were you there? And when did you go?"

She looked off to the side, as if in shame. It truly felt like he was lecturing his daughter and she was afraid to tel him the truth about her actions.

"I have checked almost every day since the building collapsed," she admitted quietly.

Enrique gaped at her. "You've been scouring the Tierra de los Muertos EVERY NIGHT since a building fell on top of you?" he demanded incredulously. "Nena," he tsked, "you should have been focusing on healing and resting. You have a collapsed lung for Pete's sake--!" He rested his elbow on the steering wheel and his hand againt his face, trying to control his breathing and his temper. He didn't want to blow up on Nina and he most definitely did not want to blow up at her when he was the one in control of the car while she was still injured and now relied on him for transportation and medical help.

Her voice was tight when she answered, filled with tears. Enrique's heart jerked with guilt as she spoke. "I know. I just thought, that maybe, if he was," she paused shortly, "there, that maybe I could get some peace of mind and that they could take care of him on the other side of the bridge. I couldn't just not try." 

He sighed, rubbing his mustache. Finally he looked over at her again. "I've been checking every day too, mija. Calling the police all over the country, checking every hospital for John Doe, calling in favors to everyone I know who sets foot in the States for any reason." 

He reached over and put a hand on top of hers. "Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. But we need you to heal and get better. You have done your part for the family, and now we know Miguel is still around." He squeezed her hand lightly.

She nodded, not quite able to smile.

"You've been through a lot, Nina. Let's get you home."  
\-------------------------

MARCH 26, 2027

Nina stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked much better than she had when they had pulled her out of the wreckage of the bank, but she still looked and felt like garbage. She had lost an arm in the incident, and it was taking its toll on her. Her therapist had told her she would need to start being with the family in social settings, lest she isolate hersef and give herself worse depression.

The therapist had prescribed her antidepressants for 'situational depression', which was the devastation, helplessness, and anxiety that came with trauma. She reminded herself almost every day that she had been through trauma, just by looking in the mirror, or moving her arm.

She had lost her right arm below the elbow only a few weeks ago. Sometimes she still could not believe it. Just a few weeks ago she had been a giddy twenty-something about to meet up with her novio for the first time in four months. Now she was an amputee with a broken heart.

Miguel had still not turned up after four weeks. The family was having a meeting tonight to determine what their next steps were. She guessed it would be more of the same; Rosa and Abel and the twins would scour the Internet for hints of their cousin's whereabouts. Papá Enrique would likely try to call everyone he knew and ask them to call everyone that they knew to search every single facility, establishment, and business for anyone who even remotely resembled her novio.

Nina had been asked how she was doing after losing her novio and her arm in the same evening. She had wanted to retort that she hadn't lost Miguel yet, but now she wasn't so sure. And she was starting to wonder if it had been his fault that she had lost her arm.

Of course it wasn't his fault that it was gone. But she could not stop the nagging resentment that had crept its way into her mind during those weeks she spent alone in the hospital. She had been looking for Miguel when the building had collapsed on top of her. She had lost a limb and suffered a collapsed lung because of it. Even now it hurt to breathe too deeply.

These were feelings she would be reluctant to share with her therapist, or anyone, really. She was too ashamed to admit them.

All the colorful brochures she had been given told her that it was normal to feel certain things. Blame, embarrassment, anger, fear, uselessness--but none of them could explain her situation. How she had lost someone, practically given her arm to try to find him. How it had only left her disabled and angry.

Nina reluctantly sat herself at the Rivera's dining table, waiting for the meeting to start. She had eaten meals with them for the last three nights, and now was no different. She had gotten some practice eating with her left hand at the hospital, and she could do it now almost naturally. Luckily dinner tonight was mostly fingerfood.

Though she doubted she would be focusing much on the whole eating part. Enrique and Luisa came to sit down to her left, and Socorro sat to her right.

Miguel's parents looked terrible. Enrique had lost weight, not that he had had much to lose, and he hardly slept. He still played with Socorro and tried to be there for her, but even his daughter was losing interest in playing when she was still devastated by her brother's disappearance.

Luisa looked just as bad. Even her makeup could not cover the hurt in her eyes or the way she seemed to float around the house like a ghost.

The whole family had been like this. Rosa and Mamá Elena had organized remote search parties for Miguel in several major cities in California. A lot of speculationn that he was still in the EEUU came around because his last concert was supposed to be in San Francisco. Rosa speculated about a ransom, which the Riveras would pay in a second, but no one ever reached out to them.

A few minutes into dinner, Rosa interrupted the silence. "I don't know if he's comming back," she had said in a small voice, setting her fork down.

Mama Elena would have none of it. "Not a chance, mija. He will come baack. We will find him." 

Abel had been the one to connect the dots. He sat across from Nina, arms crossed in front of him. "It's just like Papa Hector," he speculated. He looked around the room, at the shocked Rivera faces. A map of California, marked with red sharpie to show where they had all looked, lay between him and his family members.

"Abel," his mamá scolded, putting her hands on her hips.

Abel held up his hands. "Mamá, I just noticed a connection, okay? Miguel finally got the fanbase that Héctor wanted, right? Like, Héctor can probably live forever now, right? What if Miguel is mad at us for not letting him play music as a kid? And he ran away. If someone kidnapped him, they would have ransomed him and he would be home. If he was dead, Dante would have showed us somehow, or we would have gotten a note."

Nina winced at the way Abel hit every concern like a nail on the head. He had no tack for this sort of thing; once he got an idea it was out there, whether it hurt people's feelings or not.

Mamá Elena walked up behind Nina, scooping more rice onto her plate without asking if she needed more. "That is true," she added woefully. "Since we can't cross the veil, and the alebrijes have not come to this side of the bridge, we can't communicate with our ancestors. We don't even have an indication of where he could be."

Nina and Enrique shared a look.

Mamá Elena put a hand on her hip, looking between the two of them. "What?"

Nina sighed. "Miguel's not in the Tierra de los Muertos."

Elena frowned. "How do you know, nena?"

Nina sat back in her seat, feeling tired. She didn't want to go into detail about all she had done in the Tierra de los Muertos. But these people considered her family, and they had taken good care of her since she had gotten home from the hospital.

"I went to the Land of the Dead, using my magic," she hedged, side-eyeing Mamá Elena. Elena was always dodgy when it came to magic, but right now she watched Nina with interest. "I checked with the Riveras and even De la Cruz and his people. But Miguel isn't there."

"Did you speak to them?" asked Rosa, leaning over the table. She had cut her hair while Nina was away, rocking a bob that most of the older women in the family had disliked immensely.

Nina quite liked the hair. "No. I only walked through their realm. Like a ghost. It was like I was visiting them, but I wasn't cursed like last time," she explained, hoping it would stick better than when she explained it to Papá Enrique. "I don't really know where else he could be, or why he would leave." She slumped forward, leaning her elbow on the table and putting her chin in her hand.

Enrique was thoughtful as he started to speak. "We did get into a sort of fight, right before he left for his tour," he admitted.

The family turned to look at him in stunned silence. 

"Quique," Luisa said, brows furrowed, "why didn't you say anything?" she demanded seriously.

He gripped his arm. Under the scrutiny of his family members, he felt like a child again. "I didn't think that he had taken it to heart. We have had worse fights."

She furrowed her brows. "Was it serious?"

He swallowed. "Si. He didn't speak to me for two days afterward." He looked down, not wanting to see the others' reactions. "I just thought he was busy."

Rosa sat down hard in one of the dining room chairs. "What did you fight about, Tío Enrique? We don't blame you, but this might be important to why he disappeared, if he ran off."

Enrique thought of all the times that Miguel had stormed off after an argument. None of them had been this bad, to where he missed important obligations or deadlines. He ran a hand through his hair and then down his face in exasperation.

"I said he was working too much. I could start to see it, in his face, he was getting tired. He had been on tour Nine months of the last year. He was exhausted when he came down for his last visit."

Enrique clamped his hands tightly together, finding solace in the familiar motion. "I told him that he needed to come home, put the guitar down for a few days, to settle down."

Rosa spoke up, her voice quiet. "What did he say?"

Enrique spread his hands, as if spilling his words onto the table to look at what cards he had been dealt. "He said that he couldn't stop playing. He couldn't give up music. Like he felt an obligation to Papá Héctor or us, or something. Like no matter what he did it would not be enough to fix anything."

Mamá Elena put a hand on her son's shoulder. "But he has done so much for this family. He helps us with orders when he is off-season. He sends us money regularly, even though we don't need it. He constantly refers business to us. He got us royalties from the De la Cruz songs..." she loooked down. "Why would he not feel like it's enough?"

Enrique shrugged. "He wasn't sleeping. He said he couldn't rest his head for more than a couple of hours before a new song idea came to him and he had to put it down on paper." He looked at his family. "He was fine in high school, and through a lot of college. Why is it suddenly weighting on him now?"

"Maybe because they still haven't found Papá Héctor's remains?" speculated Abel with crossed arms. "He sent a private investigator to Mexico City a while back but there has been no progress. He said he thinks that de la Crruz put Hector's body on the train and has no idea where it could have ended up."

Rosa processed this, then pulled the map toward herself. "What if he took his familial obligation and went to Mexico City with it? Maybe he realized music wasn't enough to bring back Papá Héctor and decided to go find his remains?" She looked on the map, finding the railway that jutted north of Mexico City. "He would have started here, if de la Cruz was sending his body this way." She thrust her finger at the location where Papá Héctor had said he was killed in his letters.

Carmen leaned over her daughter's shoulder. "But that's only if he managed to put the body on the train Héctor wanted to board. What if he just stuck Héctor in a random train car and sent him wherever?"

Rosa's face fell into a frustrated scowl. "I hate to admit it, but you might be right. If Miguel realized this in some fever dream or whatever, he might have elected to just search for Hector until he located his body."

Enrique leaned back in his chair, suddenly exhausted. "But that could take years! He would have contacted us by now! We raised him to face probelms together! As a family! You'd think he would have learned this by now."

"He is descended from some of the most stubborn, hard-working people in the world," Rosa deadpanned. "Do you really think a few years' worth of effort would stop him?"

Enrique thrust his hand at the maps. "But he can't do this on bis own!"

"Then we have to go look for him."

Everyone turned to Luisa. She had been a shell of herself since her son had gone missing. Now she was filled with a conviction one might attribute to the Holy Ghost.

Rosa nodded at her aunt's determined expression. "I'm in. Who else." It wasn't a question. It was a roster.

Abel raised his hand. "No stopping me. Me too."

Nina nodded. "Me too." She raised her left hand to cut them off before anyone could butt in. "And yes I will do it one-handed. I am going crazy just being a lazy good for nothing. I need something to do. Phone appointments with my therapists, video workouts with my PT. The whole nine."

No one wanted to argue with her. She was a Rivera now, whether or not she was married to Miguel yet. They had effectively adopted her, and no one would contradict a Rivera with the same conviction as some of their more stubborn family members.

Enrique volunteered, "I will too, then." He looked around the family members who had agreed. That left the older generations to run the shop.

They immediatey set to planning. Abel and Nina would take to Caifornia, and Rosa and Enrique would take to Mexico City. They would get their missing musician back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nina will likely have PTS about her loss of a limb. 
> 
> We will check in with the deceased Riveras very shortly :)


	5. A Sea of Skeletons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We check in with Socorro a few years after Miguel leaves.
> 
> Imelda gathers her family to give them some news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked this chapter.
> 
> I have been having some troubles with time stamps for this work. I may need to overhaul the dates, but otherwise everything will remain the same
> 
> Sorry I have not updated in a while. I had appendicitis and spent some time in the hospital and recovering.

OCTOBER 31, 2033

Socorro had decided that the twins were the biggest pain in her ass she had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Now that she was fifteen, and they were eightteen, they never left her alone or let her out of their sight. Papá had gotten extra protective over his remaining child since Miguel had gone missing and never returned. Life had sort of drifted toward a sort of normal for the Rivera family, but the weird statue of Miguel and Héctor in the middle of the plaza just made Socorro mad whenever she saw it.

Miguel was supposed to be there for her eleventh birthday, and he had missed out big time. It pissed her off royally at first, but settled into a sort of pettiness that rolled around her other feelings about her brother's disappearance. She still exchanged letters with the deceased family, and every letter she wrote used to begin with, "How are you? Is Miguel there?" But lately the letters had not addressed Miguel at all. It seemed even the other side of the bridge was turning away from looking for her brother.

The worried edge eventually dulled to occasional wonder, and then numbed over time. Now her brother was sort of a blur of this person she used to hang out with as a child, who wrote her songs that occasionally played on the radio. But usually she slammed her hand on the power button and the radio would sputter out reluctantly. Socorro did not like music anymore.

She hated hearing his stupid voice.

Which was why, at this moment, she hated the twins even more. They were both blasting Miguel's music from their iPods at top volume. (Well, technically they were old phones, used for music because their own phones had been filled up in terms of storage). But the boys weren't even playing the same song. So she was surrounded by her stupid cousins' music, from two different songs, with two different emotional tones, in two different keys. It was just giving her a headache and heartache.

Finally, she lost it.

Socorro whirled on the boys, yanking both iPods out of their hands simultaneously, and yeeting them both down the street. Manny's landed with a loud THUNK on a storm drain, barely avoiding falling in the metal grate. Benny's landed hard on the sidewalk on their other side, the music cutting off abruptly as the screen went black.

"Coquis, what the hell?" demanded Manny, as Benny chased after the iPods. "We were just kidding around!"

"You two are terrible! I told you I don't want to hear that garbage anymore!" she snapped, her hands clutched into fists at her sides. They had stopped outside of the local bakery and the smell of conchas and pan dd muerto wafted toward them.

Manny's eyes flickered up to the bakery windows, his after chool hunger briefly showing in his face, but he looked back down at Coquis with his expression set in anger. "It's not garbage! It's your brother's music! And besides, we were just kidding around." He put his hands on his hips, the same way that Papá and Tío Berto did when they were angry with their kids.

Socorro put her hands on her hips too, hoping to prove how silly he looked immitating their parents. "I don't care! He left the family. He's not coming back. And I am sick of everybody playing his stupid music." Her cheeks felt hot, despite the fact that it was relatively cool outside for late October.

Manny's face settled into something like recognition. "You know he's just missing, right? He's not gone forever." He was using that expression people used when they were lecturing her. The one people had told her a thousand times when she told them she didn't think her big brother was coming back. But even now, four years later, it was wearing thin.

She rolled her eyes at her stupid cousin. What did he know? He was an idiot boy. All he and his stupid brother did was play pranks on her and torture her with their terrible music and loud video games.

She used to love playing with them. Now it was hard. She didn't know what had changed. Of course Miguel was gone, but had she really changed that much because of her older brother leaving?

"He's not missing," she grumbled. "He just isn't coming back. He chose to be wherever he is." Her dark eyes frowned up at Manny. Benny now jogged up to them, his decidedly-not-Rivera sneakers kicking up red dust as he went.

"What the hell, man?" demanded the other twin, a frown identical to Manny's on his face. He held both iPods in his hands, but apparently only Manny's had survived her little temper-tantrum. Benny's had an impressive webbing of cracks on the screen, and the back had popped off. It was too far gone for repair, she could tell.

A tinge of embarrassment showed in her cheeks. They were just messing around. But they were pushing at stuff she didn't like to mess around with. Pranks in the house were fine. Sticking peanut butter in her shoes was annoying, but it was decidedly less painful than thinking about why her brother had abandoned her and the rest of the family.

She turned away from the boys and started trudging back home. "Let's just go," she grumbled.

The boys exchanged a frown before following after their cousin. They stayed a couple meters behind her, keeping their distance but sticking close enough to keep up with her if they needed to. The destroyed iPods stayed forgotten for now; she always got into weird moods around this time of year because of Día de los Muertos.

Socorro felt alone in her thoughts. As a child she had not understood how Imelda could he so angry that she banned music from the household and held the tradition over the family for almost a hundred years. But now she understood. Socorro hardly listened to music now as it was. She had given up dancing and learning her guitar altogether, shoving her shoes and dresses and her ukelele and guitar in the attic where Miguel used to keep his old Ernesto stuff. She didn't like to look at it anymore.

The got to the hacienda gates. The boys could smell Abuelita's cooking as they wandered toward the house. It was October 31, and she was prepping a lot of the food they were going to be serving over the next few days for Día de los Muertos. The boys floated toward the kitchen to see if they could steal some food. Socorro went unnoticed toward her bedroom, where she dropped her backpack by the door and went straight to her bedside.

Socorro stubbornly dug underneath the bed, her brow furrowed and her lip pouting. Her hands brushed aside skates, a couple of baseball bats, her old tap shoes, a tube of lipgloss, an old textbook she needed to return to the school if she didn't want to be charged for it, a bunch of her old hinking gear...aha! She found the edge of the box she was looking for, and flattened onto her belly to dig it out from under her bed.

She pulled out the old shoebox, her overalls covered in a thin layer of dust. She wiped it off, and placed the box into her lap.

Socorro bit the inside of her mouth as she stared at it. The contents gently shuffled when she shook the box, but nothing inside was in danger of breaking.

The twins had been a real pain today. But they would be a pain to Abuelita now, begging her for food or at least a snack, so she was free to be on her own for a little bit until someone else hovered over her.

She would apologize about the iPods later. Maybe there was enough in her piggy bank to replace them, or to at least fix them. Either way, she wasn't in the mood for the boys. And thank the Lord they could tell. Her attention went to the ornate little wooden cube she dug out from beneath her bed.

Socorro had found this box in Nina's things when Nina had moved out a couple of years ago. She had decided to go back to school and left for America a little while ago, but just after her car turned down the street Socorro had found this box under her bed.

She knew what was inside it, even before she pulled off the lid.

Miguel's cell phone sat on top. Without thinking about it much, Socorro reached over to her bedside table and plugged the ancient iPhone in. Every once in a while she liked to charge the phone and scroll through Miguel's photos. She couldn't explain even to herself why she liked to do this, but she did. Even if she was mad at him for leaving, it was still proof that he had been there, that he had existed.

The box had a mishmash of a bunch of memorabilia in it; a semi-crushed rose, some dried cempatsuchitl petals, ticket stubs to concerts and movies, a few photos of Nina and Miguel together, a rosary, guitar picks, copies of the photos on the ofrenda, a fancy hair band, a necklace with rubies on it, faded hospital bracelets, and some letters that Nina and Miguel had exchanged.

Socorro had no connection to the items in the box, but they must have meant a great deal to Nina. However, Nina had made no intention of coming back to Mexico. When Socorro had asked about it last year, Mamá had explained to her that Nina was dealing with a lot. She had lost Miguel and her arm on the same day, and sometimes it was just too hard to get. Socorro had been angry, and hadn't understood.

Now, she understood Nina's choice, but she was still angry. Angry at Miguel for leaving, angry that no one could find him, angry that Nina had left, angry that her own family had quit searching for her brother, and angry that the twins felt a constant need to try to replace Miguel and torture her with his songs like "Con alma" and "Para mi hermanita".

Socorro slammed the lid onto the box angrily, almost breaking it. She shoved it under the bed in annoyance.

But something weird happened. The corned of the box caught on something, and the contents spilled beneath her bed as the wooden container tilted over.

Socorro daren't swear in her own house, lest Abuelita could hear her with her superpower grandma ears, but boy was she close to. The girl sighed and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, before getting back on her belly to retrieve the box.

She pulled the now empty container back toward her, and peered beneath the bed to try to figure out what it had caught on. Seeing nothing there, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out her "emergencies only" cell phone to shine the light beneath the bed.

The dust bunnies were awful. Yikes, she really needed to clean.

Socorro reached back beneath the bed, shoving aside the items as she went. The contents of the box had gone freaking everywhere, and she would really need to clean up under her bed now.

As she swiped her hand along the dusty underbelly of her bed, her hand caught on one of the floorboards.

"Oh," she realized. One of the boards was crooked, the corner sticking up out of the floor. That must have been what it had caught on. She stuck her hand back as far as it would go under her bed and experimentally wiggled the board. Without meaning to, she yanked the entire thing out of the floor with little to no effort.

Now she really did swear. Softly, though, just in case! She pulled back, bringing the loose floorboard with her. She was disgusted by how dusty the thing was. She decided she would tell Papá about the floorboard later. She tried to shove it back beneath her bed, but the movement shifted the rosary from the box into the hole in the floor.

"Are you freaking kidding me," she whined at the ceiling. In order to get the rosary she would have to move her bed, and in order to do that she would have to move her bedside table, and in order to do that she would have to move the rug. She would have left the mess for another time, but leaving the floor open with a rosary inside--no matter how holy--only invited rodents into her room.

With a deep frown, she set about rolling up her heavy rug, leaning it behind her door. It took her several minutes of huffing just to get it rolled up, and another several minutes of grunting and angry pleas with heaven to get it upright and in the corner. Seeing the contrast of the floor beneath her rug and the floor free of the rug made her realize just how dirty her room was. It looked tidy because she never left things on the floor, but there was dust everywhere.

Frown deepening, she set to moving her heavy bedside table, taking the drawers out to make it as light as possible so she would not scuff the floor. That done, she now turned to her bed with a huff. It was too heavy to move with the mattress on top, so she set that against the door. She briefly prayed that no one would set fire to the house while she did her little project, because the door was now expertly blocked.

Now the empty frame was easier to maneuver. Socorro pulled it forward, then tipped the entire thing so it could lean against the wall.

A loud noise in the kitchen made her stop. She watched the door for a few seconds, trying to make out Abuelita and the boys' voices, but she could not distinguish them or what they said. There was a lot of cooking going on in the kitchen and a lot of chatter. She heard the high peal of laughter coming from her Tía Gloria, and then it seemed like things were quieting down again..

Socorro didn't want to be caught doing...whatever it was she was doing. Logically, she knew she wasn't doing anything wrong. But it still felt like she was hiding something from her parents. They had hammered it into her brain that there were no secrets in the family, and Miguel had eagerly sworn he told the family everything too. But this box, it was the only thing that Socorro had that was hers (sort of), that no one else knew about. It was a secret, and her obnoxious cousins wouldn't be sticking their nose in it where they didn't belong. 

The underside of her bed was riddled with spiderwebs. But no spiders themselves. Yikes. She hated that a lot; where were the horrifying arachnids hiding?

She groaned as she propped the bed against the wall and hesitated with her hands out as she let go, waiting for it to fall or slide out and ram her in the shins. When it steadied, she looked down at the mess that had been her hiding place for her diary, secret box, and all her sports equipment. Her eyes fell on the hole with the rosary inside.

Sure enough, it shined up at her, the Virgen Santa's face smiling archaically up at her with a yellow halo surrounding her head. Socorro frowned at the saint; she didn't much believe in the Catholic church anymore. It was hard to believe in anything, really, unless it was right in front of her.

But this wasn't hers. She gently reached down into the hole, a few centimeters down into the floor, and she picked up the rosary.

Her fingers brushed something as she scooped it up, but it was not a texture she was expecting. It felt a little like plastic. Curious, Socorro shone her phone flashlight into the hole and looked down at it. There appeared to be a black bag with a zipper on the side.

"What the hell?" she whispered, reaching in to pull up the bag.

It was too big to maneuver through the hole made by the one lifted board. But when she tried to pull it out anyway, there was a soft rattling as four or five more boards came loose and clattered around her.

She gaped wide-eyed at the mess before her; the boards were sticking out of the hole in all different directions, and one of her baseball bats rolled into it. Now the guitar pics and several shoes and photos had fallen in as well.

The collapsed floor-boards were loose. Sickeningly loose. She had just barely moved them and they had come out of their spaces, the two-by-fours beneath them visible to God and everybody.

Well, to Socorro.

Socorro had not known the floorboards were not nailed down. Now that she thought about it, the bedframe had always been here. When Miguel lived here, when Nina moved in, and then after that when Socorro claimed this room as well. There had always been a bed in this corner of the room. So they could have been unsecured for a long time.

Hand still on the bag, Socorro gently pulled it free. Now that it was out in the open, she could see that it was a garment bag. But why the hell would a garment bag be stuffed under her bed?

Or Nina's bed.

Or Miguel's bed.

Which had it been?

With fingers trembling, Socorro found the zipper and began to tug it loose. It resisted at first, like it had been stuck in that position for years. But finally it whined open, and she was able to see what was inside.

The sleeve of a rust-orange, embroidered mariachi jacket shimmered at her. It had the starched white shirt beneath it, and a silky magenta bowtie tied in an extravagent knot around the collar. Socorro opened the jacket and found the matching pants beneath. As gently as possible, she pulled the charro suit out of the bag. The bag still felt heavy, probably from the shoes at the bottom, but her attention was on the suit she held out.

It was Miguel's. It had to be. Despite the fact that Miguel sung largely Latin pop and romance power ballads, he liked to wear traditional mariachi suits at his concerts.

It still smelled like him.

Tears sprang to Socorro's eyes unwillingly as she held the charro suit. She hadn't felt anything like THIS in a long time. It was like someone had carved her brother out of her life anew.

She let the garment bag fall to the ground with a thud. She clutched the jacket close to her, a sob escaping her. It racked her whole form. Socorro began shamelessly crying for the first time since her brother vanished. For once she was not angry about it, but deeply, truly hurt.

She was surrounded by utter chaos, her room a complete broken mess. It was exactly how she felt inside. For so long she had shoved down her feelings, electing to be angry at her brother for leaving. Now only the darkness of grief enveloped her, and she couldn't stop herself from crying. 

She didn't startle when there was a knock on her door. Voices called to her from the hallway, but she didn't answer them. She couldn't. Nor could she move when the door was thrust sharply open, the mattress forced forward, or when the drawer set scraped on the floor, nudging her leg.

Socorro only cried as strong arms found her and wrapped around her shoulders. She smelled her papá's cologne, and the scent of her mamá's shampoo. They held her, not addressing the mess around her, only empathetically embracing her in a loving hug.

"Iguel's not coming back, is he?" she choked out, gripping tighter to the jacket. One of her tears fell on the bow as she looked up at her mamá.

Mamá frowned deeply, the lines in her face showing in her grief. She and papá were starting to grey a little at the temples. Mamá seemed like she was tearing up as she considered Socorro's question. She looked at her husband, and they had one of their classic wordless discussions using only their eyes.

It was Papá who answered. "We think," he began unsteadily, his voice wobbling a little as he spoke, "that Miguel is unable to come back to us. Not because he died, but because he had something he needs to do, on his own."

Socorro didn't like this explanation. "What could he be needing to do so badly that he can't do it without us?" she demanded, but the bite in her voice was gone.

Mamá answered. "I'm not sure, mija. We just have to trust that, wherever he is, he has a reason for leaving, and for taking so long to come home."

That wasn't good enough. It never was. Socorro would grow up without her brother, become a mother and grandmother, pass away in her sleep in her eighties, and still spend several decades in the Tierra de los Muertos before she would find out what happened to Miguel.

She had even gone searching for Miguel outside of the Tierra de los Vivos, and the Tierra de los Muertos, only to come up with absolutely nothing.

And you had better believe she was righteously pissed when she found out where he had been all this time.

\-----------------------------  
October 5, 2155

She felt it so intently that it awakened her from a deep sleep. A change in the air, something stirred that she had not felt in a long time. Nina sat up in her bed. Her husband stirred in his sleep but he didn't make any noise. He resumed his snoring as he rolled onto his side facing away from Nina.

She hadn't felt this way in a very long time. It was like a scent on the breeze; very familiar, with a nice spice she liked, but very warm and sweet at the same time. This feeling had not pulled on her soul in over a century.

Nina got out of bed, being careful not to disturb her husband or her children. They needed their rest now that they were starting to be forgotten. She tried not to let that worry tug on her emotions as she made her way outside of the house.

Her nightgown billowed in the breeeze outside. The full moon shined overhead so brightly it was like its own sun. It was a beautiful night, haunted by beautiful dreams.

Nina didn't need to wait for long; Pepita was waiting outside her house for her, scratching nervously at the floorboards of the patio.

"Pepita, it's all right. Can you feel it too?"

The giant jaguar alebrije only sniffed in response as Nina pet her snout.

"Okay. Let's go then."

Pepita still considered her ties with Nina as part of the family. Nina had been in several scrapes throughout her life and afterlife, and for some reason Dante or Pepita had been there, in their alebrije forms or as regular housepets. Pepita in her housecat form had been a strong emotional anchor for her in the first few years after Miguel had vanished, and a strong physical protector for her in her afterlife. Dante had been good for reassuring her that she was still a good person when she was finally able to move on from Miguel and find love in another man. Dante liked to lick her face the moment she was feeling down, no matter where she was. 

It was strange considering the alebrijes liked her so much when so many of the Riveras had stopped talking to her altogether.

Nina boarded Pepita's back and they took to the dark night sky. The feeling got stronger as they flew toward the Rivera house. She guessed it was sometime in the very early morning. Past midnight but before the hint of sunlight tinted the horizon. But the Rivera house was far from asleep. Even from a distance she could see the Rivera tower's lights were all on. They appeared to be starting a gathering in the courtyard. Several of the hundred or so Riveras began to set up chairs around the small stage in the center of their courtyard. One might have assumed they were preparing for a wedding or a talent show.

But Nina knew differently. She wasn't the only one who had felt the long-gone presense present itself again. She spotted Imelda on the stage, directing some of the family members on how to allign the chairs to maximize space. Even from far away, Nina could tell Imelda was full of buzzing energy.

Pepita touched down just ouside the gate. Nina patted Pepita's rear and sent the jaguar alebrije away. The giant winged beast soared into the night sky.

Nina entered the courtyard, feeling a little strange. She had not set foot in the Rivera compound in a long time; after a few years in the living world waiting for Miguel, she had fallen for another man and gotten married. She had felt immeasurable guilt at finally letting go of Miguel, but it had been good for her to move on. Marrying Carlos had given her two beautiful children and a thousand different blessings.

And when she had died in her eighties, she went straight to the Riveras to ask what had happened to Miguel. But none of them had known. She continued to speak with them for a few years, but her communication with the deceased Riveras dwindled past the occasional visit on la Navidad and Día de los Muertos.

Imelda looked up from directing one of the oldest Riveras--Julio-- on where to set the mic on the stage. Her eyes met Nina's and instantly they had a connection. Nina's shoulders tensed. Imelda's face contorted to surprise, before setting into her normal serious facial expression. Still focused on Nina, Imelda's mouth set in a hard line and she nodded, confirming Nina's suspicions.

A sigh escaped Nina's body as a strange unidentifyable feeling swept through her; she was right. Miguel was somehow "out there" and he was okay. He was alive of all things. Impossible as it was, he was finally lucid enough for the deceased people he remembered to feel his heartstrings. 

She immediately set about helping set chairs in the aisles, but it looked like much of the work had already been done. She set a chair in the back as the most efficient family in Santa Cecilia filed into the rows to face their matriarch.

Imelda walked up to the mic. "Hola, mi familia," she started strongly. Nina's eyes searched for Héctor, and she finally located his straw hat sitting in the front row next to their daughter Coco. He didn't appear surprised at all about Miguel's revival; neither did Coco.

The familia greeted her, some saying the full "hola Mamá Iemlda" and others just grunting or nodding in response. It was very early in the morning. Nina herself had not planned on getting out of bed for several hours.

"I know you are wondering why I woke you all up and called this meeting," she spoke into the mic with strength that Nina herself did not feel in her own bones. The shock of feeling Miguel's spirit was enough to make her feel woozy.

"And that reason is because," a small pause, "our second missing mariachi has returned."

Instantly there was a dull roar of questions, comments, and concerns. Imelda waved her hands out to the crowd, and Nina barely caught her "settle down, por favor."

Eventually the excited Riveras did quiet themselves. "I need to explain a few things. Miguel's case is different from Héctor's." She looked around the family again. "Some of you can probably feel it, but it needs to be said. Miguel is still alive."

Imelda stepped back from the mic as several questions soared over her head. Héctor stood up to wVe at the familia, but they were not listening to either Rivera. Nina could see Socorro calling out questions and waving her arms in anger; it appeared that Imelda had not told her yet about Miguel.

Imelda's brow furrowed in agitation. Finally fed up with the insubordination, she stuck her thumb and index finger in her mouth and whistled two high notes.

The crowd settled once more. But many of them remained standing.

Socorro was one of them. She held a determined hand in the air, an angry expression on her face.

Imelda's shoulders sagged minutely. She knew she was in for a whirlwind of anger, disbelief, and outright confusion. She pointed at Miguel's little sister, now a great-great grandmother.

Socorro lowerd her hand slowly, her voice choked and angry when it came out. "How long have you known?" she demanded through her teeth.

Muttered agreement told Nina that many of the other Riveras had the same question.

But Imelda was not one to back down. She frowned deeply, taking in a silent breath, before answering, "A few weeks."

Nina felt her heart drop down out of her chest. If she were still living, she knew she would have fainted or worse. She did not hold up well under dire circumstances. She thanked God for the chair beneath her.

The Riveras cried out, but Imelda was not moved. She waited while they raved; one Rivera near the front threw his hat on the floor and others shouted.

Imelda spoke directly into the microphone. "There was nothing we could do." She defended her decision with a sharp nod. "We didn't even know the living had found him until a little while ago."

Nina found herself raising to her feet, lifting a shaky hand in the air. She had lost a few centimeters in height due to her age, but she was still fairly tall. Imelda saw her over the sea of Riveras and pointed. "Yes, mija?"

Nina swallowed hard. "How is he still alive?" She didn't think that people typically woke up after long comas. But even if Miguel awakened from a normal coma, he probably wasn't expected to live past around seventy or eighty years. If this was truly Miguel Rivera they were talking about, he would be over one hundred and fifty years old.

Imelda frowned. "We're not sure, but I think it has to do with when he was cursed as a boy. Maybe he was cursed again, or part of that curse remained to keep him alive all this time."

There was a silence that passed through the gathered family, but it wasn't because of Imelda's answer. Nina could tell that several of the Riveras wanted to respond or lecture her, but they simply didn't.

The strange feeling Nina had felt earlier got stronger. It seemed to be coming from behind her. She turned, seeing many other Riveras were turned in their seats. Walking up the aisle, like an unwelcome bride, was a living woman. The Rivera family actually stood for her as they might stand for a bride, watching her approach The stage with wide eyes.

"Thank you for coming," Imelda murmured, looking down at the woman. They were comfortable with each other in a way that suggested familiarity.

But Nina couldn't remember for the life of her where she had seen this woman before. Her thoughts were mostly marred with questions. How on earth was this woman here when it was nowhere near Día de los Muertos? What was she here for?

Her eyes caught Nina's and she instantly understood; this woman was like Nina.

Nina slumped back in her seat, suddenly disinterested. She didn't trust anybody else like her; it only led to disaster in her experience. Never trust another witch, even if they are family. It was the power of Mayan witches that had gotten her banned from the Land of the Dead. Nina had tried thousands of times to get to the Tierra de los Muertos when she was still alive, and had not succeeded. Even on Día de los Muertos, she had been locked out. Only on the day she died had she been able to come back, but even that was only after she had agreed to face the trials of Xibalba.

She had been there twice and never wanted to go back ever again.

"I have news about Miguel Rivera," the woman spoke into the crowd. Imelda helped her stand, pulling her onto the stage. She did not startle at the feeling of Imelda's phalanges on her skin as Nina would expect someone who had never seen them before would. She had clearly been here before. The young woman spoke, "Miguel is truly alive. I spoke to him," Yolanda declared boldly. "He's awake, and he is recovering from his coma."

A sharp voice interrupted her. "You expect us to believe this bullshit?!" called a familiar voice.

Nina's heart palpitated--or it would have if she had had one. She had not spoken to Rosa in the better part of eighty years. And during the brief instances when they had interacted, it had been a terrible shitshow. Rosa could hold a grudge like no one's business; she had taken after Imelda all right.

The Riveras sure were great at shutting people out.

Rosa emerged from her family members. "Niña, I get that you want to help, but are you absolutely certain that this is our Miguel?" She thrust an accusing bony finger at the living woman.

Yolanda frowned as the Riveras began to yell once more. Nina had never seen them so upset or discombobulated; she had heard that some branches of the family--like Socorro's and Rosa's--had almost instituted new music bans of their own down the line. Nina didn't necessarily believe that was a viable solution, but the bans had only lasted a few years in the wake of Miguel's disappearance.

Yolanda took the shouting in stride, jutting out her chin. She dug into her bag and pulled out a mirror.

Nina immediately recognized it as the Espejo de Huracán. It held very powerful properties, and in the wrong hands could lead to great disaster. Nina felt herself cringe under its presense; it had been the source of her discomfort when Yolanda had arrived. Made entirely of obsidion, the mirror held the powers of the Mayan gods over the weather elements. It had been gifted to Nina's bloodline a thousand years ago.

Now Yolanda had it.

Yolanda said something to the mirror and a bright light flashed. She held it up to the crowd, and suddenly a familiar, yet strained face came to view. Yolanda muttered something and the mirror's image projected so that it was a meter high.

Nina's heart sank; Miguel was as thin as some of the people in the gathering. He was thin to begin with, but his muscles were severely atrophied. He stood on wobbly legs in a sweatshirt and pants, his hands gripping parallel bars to help him walk. His expression was sour, even as a nurse beside him shouted encouragements.

The Riveras were silent.

"Good job, Miguel," the nurse praised in English.

Miguel chuckled, and the sound nearly broke Nina in half. It was rough, but the voice belonged to her long-lost querrido, the man she had lost as a young woman, had missed and cursed for years. He answered back in English. "You know I hate you right?" he responded with a smirk, but there was no bite in his voice.

The nurse smiled back at Miguel as he made another step.

Immediately the image was sucked back into the mirror, which turned back into a thin sheet of obsidion framed in gold and turquoise. Yolanda held the mirror tightly in her hands, searching the crowd. It was almost like she dared them to contradict her. "Miguel is alive, and he is being taken care of. I will personally make it my duty to bring him home to the Riveras again. He will be home by Día de los Muertos."

There was silence so loud it reverberated in Nina's ears.

Then there was deafening yelling and cheering. People swarmed the stage to get to Yolanda, begging her to show them the mirror again, asking questions about Miguel. She could hear Héctor try to settle everyone again, and then Imelda's high whistle. But the nouse kept going.

Nina snuck away from the crowd; she had had enough. She stormed out of there as a hundred Riveras shouted, asking questions nobody had the answers to except maybe the gods.

She had someone else she needed to ask a question. No one here would be able to fix the problem she had had burning in the back of her skull for over a century.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like :)


End file.
